Heart of the Sunset

by Rex Beach

  XVII

  THE GUZMAN INCIDENT

  Ricardo Guzman did not return from Romero. When two days had passedwith no word from him, his sons became alarmed and started aninvestigation, but without the slightest result. Even Colonel Blancohimself could not hazard a guess as to Guzman's fate; the man haddisappeared, it seemed, completely and mysteriously. Meanwhile, fromother quarters of the Mexican town came rumors that set the borderafire.

  Readers of this story may remember the famous "Guzman incident," socalled, and the complications that resulted from it, for at the time itraised a storm of indignation as the crowning atrocity of the Mexicanrevolution, serving further to disturb the troubled waters of diplomacyand threatening for a moment to upset the precariously balancedrelations of the two countries.

  At first the facts appeared plain: a citizen of the United States hadbeen lured across the border and done to death by Mexican soldiers--forit soon became evident that Ricardo was dead. The outrage was a casusbelli such as no self-respecting people could ignore; so ran thepopular verdict. Then when that ominous mailed serpent which lay coiledalong the Rio Grande stirred itself, warlike Americans preparedthemselves to hear of big events.

  A motive for Ricardo Guzman's murder was not lacking, for it wasgenerally known that President Potosi had long resented Yankee enmity,particularly as that enmity was directed at him personally. Asuccession of irritating diplomatic skirmishes, an unsatisfactoryseries of verbal sparring matches, had roused the old Indian's anger,and it was considered likely that he had adopted this means ofpermanently severing his relations with Washington.

  Of course, the people of Texas were delighted that the long-delayedhour had struck; accordingly, when the State Department seemedstrangely loath to investigate the matter, when, in fact, it manifesteda willingness to allow Don Ricardo ample time in which to come to lifein preference to putting a further strain upon international relations,they were both surprised and enraged. Telegraph wires began to buzz;the governor of the state sent a crisply sarcastic message to thenational capital, offering to despatch a company of Rangers afterGuzman's body just to prove that he was indeed dead and that theMexican authorities were lying when they professed ignorance of thefact.

  This offer not only caught the popular fancy north of the Rio Grande,but it likewise had an effect on the other side of the river, for onthe very next day General Luis Longorio set out for Romero toinvestigate personally the rancher's disappearance.

  Now, throughout all this public clamor, truth, as usual, lay hidden atthe bottom of its well, and few even of Ricardo's closest friendssuspected the real reason for his murder.

  Jonesville, of course, could think or talk of little else than thisoutrage, and Blaze Jones, as befitted its leading citizen, was loudestin his criticism of the government's weak-kneed policy.

  "It makes me right sore to think I'm an American," he confided to Dave."Why, if Ricardo had been an Englishman the British consul at MexicoCity would have called on Potosi the minute the news came. He'd havestuck a six-shooter under the President's nose and made him locate DonRicardo, or pay an indemnity and kiss the Union Jack." Blaze'sconception of diplomacy was peculiar. "If Potosi didn't talk straightthat British consul would have bent a gun-bar'l over the old ruffian'sbean and telephoned for a couple hundred battle-ships. England protectsher sons. But we Americans are cussed with notions of brotherly loveand universal peace. Bah! We're bound to have war, Dave, some day orother. Why not start it now?"

  Dave nodded his agreement. "Yes. We'll have to step in and take thecountry over, sooner or later. But--everybody has the wrong idea ofthis Guzman killing. The Federal officers in Romero didn't frame it up."

  "No? Who did?"

  "Tad Lewis."

  Jones started. "What makes you think that?"

  "Listen! Tad was afraid to let Urbina come to trial--you remember oneof his men boasted that the case would never be heard? Well, it won't.Ricardo's dead and the other witness is gone. Now draw your ownconclusions."

  "Gone? You mean the fellow who saw Urbina and Garza together?"

  "Yes. He has disappeared, too--evidently frightened away."

  Jones was amazed. "Say, Dave," he cried, "that means your case hasblown up, eh?"

  "Absolutely. Lewis has been selling 'wet' stock to the Federals, and heprobably arranged with some of them to murder Ricardo. At any rate,that's my theory."

  Blaze cursed eloquently. "I'd like to hang it on to Tad; I'd sure cleanhouse down his way if I was positive."

  "I sent a man over to Romero," Dave explained further. "He tells meRicardo is dead, all right; but nobody knows how he died, or why.There's a new grave in the little cemetery above the town, but nobodyknows who's buried in it. There hasn't been a death in Romero lately."The speaker watched his friend closely. "Ricardo's family would like tohave his body, and I'd like to see it myself. Wouldn't you? We couldtell just what happened to him. If he really faced a firing-squad, forinstance--I reckon Washington would have something to say, eh?"

  "What are you aimin' at?" Blaze inquired.

  "If we had Ricardo's body on this side it would put an end to all thelies, and perhaps force Colonel Blanco to make known the real facts. Itmight even mean a case against Tad Lewis. What do you think of myreasoning?"

  "It's eighteen karat. What d'you say we go over there and get Ricardo?"

  Dave smiled. "That's what I've been leading up to. Will you take achance?"

  "Hell, yes!"

  "I knew you would. All we need is a pair of Mexicans to--do the work. Iliked Ricardo; I owe him something."

  "Suppose we're caught?"

  "In that case we'll have to run for it, and--I presume I'll bedischarged from the Ranger service."

  "I ain't very good at runnin'--not from Mexicans." Blaze's eyes werebright and hard at the thought. "It's more'n possible that, if theydiscover us, we can start a nice little war of our own."

  That evening Dave managed to get his Ranger captain by long-distancetelephone, and for some time the two talked guardedly. When Dave rangoff they had come to a thorough understanding.

  It had been an easy matter for Jose Sanchez to secure a leave ofabsence from Las Palmas, especially since Benito was not a littleinterested in the unexplained disappearance of Panfilo and work waslight at this time. Benito did not think it necessary to mention thehorse-breaker's journey to his employer; so that Alaire knew nothingwhatever about the matter until Jose himself asked permission to seeher on a matter of importance.

  The man had ridden hard most of the previous night, and his excitementwas patent. Even before he spoke Alaire realized that Panfilo's fatewas known to him, and she decided swiftly that there must be no furtherconcealment.

  "Senora! A terrible thing!" Jose burst forth. "God knows, I am nearlymad with grief. It is about my sainted cousin. It is strange,unbelievable! My head whirls--"

  Alaire quieted him, saying in Spanish, "Calm yourself, Jose, and tellme everything from the beginning."

  "But how can I be calm? Oh, what a crime! What a misfortune! Well,then, Panfilo is completely dead. I rode to that tanque where you sawhim last, and what do you think? But--you know?"

  Alaire nodded. "I--suspected."

  Jose's dark face blazed; he bent forward eagerly. "What did yoususpect, and why? Tell me all. There is something black and hellishhere, and I must know about it quickly."

  "Suppose you tell me your story first," Alaire answered, "and rememberthat you are excited."

  The Mexican lowered his voice. "Bueno! Forgive me if I seem halfcrazed. Well, I rode to that water-hole and found--nothing. It is alonely place; only the brush cattle use it; but I said to myself,'Panfilo drank here. He was here. Beyond there is nothing. So I willbegin.' God was my helper, senora. I found him--his bones as naked andclean as pebbles. Caramba! You should have heard me then! I was like ademon! I couldn't think, I couldn't reason. I rode from that accursedspot as if Panfilo's ghost pursued me and--I am here. I shall rouse thecountry; the people shall demand the blood of my
cousin's assassin. Itis the crime of a century."

  "Wait! When you spoke to me last I didn't dream that Panfilo was dead,but since then I have learned the truth, and why he was killed. Youmust let me tell you everything, Jose, just as it happened; then--youmay do whatever you think best. And you shall have the whole truth."

  It was a trying situation; in spite of her brave beginning, Alaire wastempted to send the Mexican on to Jonesville, there to receive anexplanation directly from David Law himself; but such a course shedared not risk. Jose was indeed half crazed, and at this moment quiteirresponsible; if he met Dave, terrible consequences would surelyfollow. Accordingly, it was with a peculiar, apprehensive flatter inher breast that Alaire realized the crisis had come. Heretofore she hadblamed Law, but now, oddly enough, she found herself interested indefending him. As calmly as she could she related all that had led upto the tragedy, while Jose listened with eyes wide and mouth open.

  "You see, I had no suspicion of the truth," she concluded. "It was aterrible thing, and Mr. Law regrets it deeply. He would have made areport to the authorities, only--he feared it might embarrass me. Hewill repeat to you all that I have said, and he is ready to meet theconsequences."

  Jose was torn with rage, yet plainly a prey to indecision; he rolledhis eyes and cursed under his breath. "These Rangers!" he muttered."That is the kind of men they are. They murder honest people."

  "This was not murder," Alaire cried, sharply. "Panfilo was aiding afelon to escape. The courts will not punish Mr. Law."

  "Bah! Who cares for the courts? This man is a Gringo, and these areGringo laws. But I am Mexican, and Panfilo was my cousin. We shall see."

  Alaire's eyes darkened. "Don't be rash, Jose," she exclaimed,warningly. "Mr. Law bears you no ill-will, but--he is a dangerous man.You would do well to make some inquiries about him. You are a good man;you have a long life before you." Reading the fellow's black look, sheargued: "You think I am taking his part because he is my countryman,but he needs no one to defend him. He will make this whole story publicand face the consequences. I like you, and I don't wish to see you cometo a worse end than your cousin Panfilo."

  Jose continued to glower. Then, turning away, he said, without meetinghis employer's eyes, "I would like to draw my money."

  "Very well. I am sorry to have you leave Las Palmas, for I haveregarded you as one of my gente." Jose's face remained stony. "What doyou intend to do? Where are you going?"

  The fellow shrugged. "Quien sabe! Perhaps I shall go to my GeneralLongorio. He is in Romero, just across the river; he knows a brave manwhen he sees one, and he needs fellows like me to kill rebels. Well,you shall hear of me. People will tell you about that demon of a Josewhose cousin was murdered by the Rangers. Yes, I have the heart of abandit."

  Alaire smiled faintly. "You will be shot," she told him. "Thosesoldiers have little to eat and no money at all."

  But Jose's bright eyes remained hostile and his expression baffling. Itwas plain to Alaire that her explanation of his cousin's death hadcarried not the slightest conviction, and she even began to fear thather part in the affair had caused him to look upon her as an accessory.Nevertheless, when she paid him his wages she gave him a good horse,which Jose accepted with thanks but without gratitude. As Alairewatched him ride away with never a backward glance she decided that shemust lose no time in apprising the Ranger of this new condition ofaffairs.

  She drove her automobile to Jonesville that afternoon, more worriedthan she cared to admit. It was a moral certainty, she knew, that JoseSanchez would, sooner or later, attempt to take vengeance upon hiscousin's slayer, and there was no telling when he might becomesufficiently inflamed with poisonous Mexican liquor to be in the moodfor killing. Then, too, there were friends of Panfilo always ready tolend bad counsel.

  Law was nowhere in town, and so, in spite of her reluctance, Alaire wasforced to look for him at the Joneses' home. As she had never calledupon Paloma, and had made it almost impossible for the girl to visitLas Palmas, the meeting of the two women was somewhat formal. But noone could long remain stiff or constrained with Paloma Jones; the girlhad a directness of manner and an honest, friendly smile that simplywould not be denied. Her delight that Alaire had come to see herpleased and shamed the elder woman, who hesitatingly confessed theobject of her visit.

  "Oh, I thought you were calling on me." Paloma pouted her pretty lips."Dave isn't here. He and father--have gone away." A little pucker ofapprehension appeared upon her brow.

  "I must get word to him at once."

  Miss Jones shook her head. "Is it very important?"

  It needed no close observation to discover the concern in Paloma'seyes; Alaire told her story quickly. "Mr. Law must be warned rightaway," she added, "for the man is capable of anything."

  Paloma nodded. "Dave told us how he had killed Panfilo--" Shehesitated, and then cried, impulsively: "Mrs. Austin, I'm going toconfess something--I've got to tell somebody or I'll burst. I waswalking the floor when you came. Well, Dad and Dave have completelylost their wits. They have gone across the river--to get RicardoGuzman's body."

  "What?" Alaire stared at the girl uncomprehendingly.

  "They are going to dig him up and bring him back to prove that he waskilled. Dave knows where he's buried, and he's doing this for Ricardo'sfamily--some foolish sentiment about a bridle--but Dad, I think, merelywants to start a war between the United States and Mexico."

  "My dear girl, aren't you dreaming?"

  "I thought I must be when I heard about it. Dad wouldn't have told meat all, only he thought I ought to know in case anything happens tohim." Paloma's breath failed her momentarily. "They'll be killed. Itold them so, but Dave seems to enjoy the risk. He said Ricardo had asentimental nature--and, of course, the possibility of danger delightedboth him and Dad. They're perfect fools."

  "When did they go? Tell me everything."

  "They left an hour ago in my machine, with two Mexicans to help them.They intend to cross at your pumping-plant as soon as it gets dark, andbe back by mid-night--that is, if they ever get back."

  "Why, it's--unbelievable."

  "It's too much for me. Longorio himself is in Romero, and he'd havethem shot if he caught them. We'd never even hear of it." Paloma's facewas pale, her eyes were strained and tragic. "Father always has been atrial to me, but I thought I could do something with Dave." She made ahopeless gesture, and Alaire wondered momentarily whether the girl'sanxiety was keenest for the safety of her father or--the other?

  "Can't we prevent them from going?" she inquired. "Why, they arebreaking the law, aren't they?"

  "Something like that. But what can we do? It's nearly dark, and they'llgo, anyhow, regardless of what we say."

  "Mr. Law is a Ranger, too!"

  The girl nodded. "Oh, if it's ever discovered he'll be ruined. Andthink of Dad--a man of property! Dave declares Tad Lewis is at thebottom of it all and put the Federals up to murder Ricardo; he thinksin this way he can force them into telling the truth. But Dad is justlooking for a fight and wants to be a hero!"

  There was a moment of silence. Then Alaire reasoned aloud: "I presumethey chose our pumping-plant because it is directly opposite the Romerocemetery. I could have Benito and some trusty men waiting on this side.Or I could even send them over--"

  "No, no! Don't you understand? The whole thing is illegal."

  "Well, we could be there--you and I."

  Paloma agreed eagerly. "Yes! Maybe we could even help them if they gotinto trouble."

  "Come, then! We'll have supper at Las Palmas and slip down to the riverand wait."

  Paloma was gone with a rush. In a moment she returned, ready for thetrip, and with her she carried a Winchester rifle nearly as long asherself.

  "I hope you aren't afraid of firearms," she panted. "I've owned thisgun for years."

  "I am rather a good shot," Alaire told her.

  Paloma closed her lips firmly. "Good! Maybe we'll come in handy, afterall. Anyhow, I'll bet those Mexicans won't chase Dad and Dave v
ery far."

  Jose Sanchez was true to his declared purpose. With a horse of his ownbetween his knees, with money in his pocket and hate in his heart, heleft Las Palmas, and, riding to the Lewis crossing, forded the RioGrande. By early afternoon he was in Romero, and there, after someeffort, he succeeded in finding General Longorio.

  Romero, at this time the southern outpost of Federal territory,standing guard against the Rebel forces in Tamaulipas, is a sun-bakedlittle town sprawling about a naked plaza, and, except for the presenceof Colonel Blanco's detachment of troops, it would have presented muchthe same appearance as any one of the lazy border villages. A scowferry had at one time linked it on the American side with a group of'dobe houses which were sanctified by the pious name of Sangre deCristo, but of late years more advantageous crossings above and belowhad come into some use and Romero's ferry had been abandoned. Perhaps amile above Sangre de Cristo, and directly opposite Romero's weed-growncemetery, stood the pumping-plant of Las Palmas, its corrugated ironroof and high-flung chimney forming a conspicuous landmark.

  Luis Longorio had just awakened from his siesta when Jose gainedadmittance to his presence. The general lay at ease in the best bed ofthe best house in the village; he greeted the new-comer with a smile.

  "So, my brave Jose, you wish to become a soldier and fight for yourcountry, eh?"

  "Yes, my general."

  Longorio yawned and stretched lazily. "Body of Christ! This is a hardlife. Here am I in this goatherd's hovel, hot, dirty, and half starved,and all because of a fellow I never saw who got himself killed. Youwould think this Ricardo was an Englishman instead of a Gringo, for thefuss that is made. Who was he? Some great jefe?

  "A miserable fellow. I knew him well. Then he is indeed dead?"

  "Quite dead, I believe," Longorio said, carelessly; then turning hislarge, bright eyes upon the visitor, he continued, with more interest,"Now tell me about the beautiful senora, your mistress."

  Jose scowled. "She's not my mistress. I am no longer of her gente. Ihave a debt of blood to wipe out."

  Longorio sat up in his bed; the smile left his face. "My Jose", hesaid, quietly, "if you harm her in the least I shall bury you to theneck in an ant's nest and fill your mouth with honey. Now, what is thisyou are telling me?"

  Jose, uncomfortably startled by this barbarous threat, told asconnectedly as he knew how all about his cousin's death and his reasonsfor leaving Las Palmas.

  "Ah-h!" Longorio relaxed. "You gave me a start. At first I thought youcame with a message from her--but that was too much to expect; then Ifeared you meant the lady some evil. Now I shall tell you a littlesecret: I love your senora! Yes, I love her madly, furiously; I canthink of nothing but her. I came to this abominable village more to seeher than to annoy myself over the death of Ricardo Guzman. I must seemy divinity; I must hear her blessed voice, or I shall go mad. Why do Itell you this? Because I have decided that you shall lead me to herto-night." The general fell silent for a moment, then, "I intend tohave her some day, Jose, and--perhaps you will be my right hand. See, Imake you my confidant because you will not dare to anger me or--Well,my little friend, you must understand what fate would befall you inthat case. I can reach across the Rio Grande."

  Amazement and then fear were depicted in Jose's face as he listened; heasserted his loyalty vehemently.

  "Yes, yes, I know you love me," the general agreed, carelessly. "Butwhat is far more to the point, I intend to pay well for your services.Perhaps I shall also arrange so that you may have a reckoning with themurderer of your cousin. What is his name?"

  It was Jose's opportunity to make an impression, and he used it to thefull, telling all that he knew of the killing of Panfilo, anddescribing Law with the eloquence of hatred.

  Longorio listened for a time, and then held up his hand. "Enough. Formy sake, too, you shall kill him, for you have made me jealous."

  "Impossible!" Jose raised protesting palms. He was sure the general waswrong. Senora Austin was above suspicion of any kind.

  "And yet this man met her in Pueblo and rode with her to Las Palmas? Hecomes to see her frequently, you say?" The general bent his bright,keen eyes upon the visitor.

  "Yes. She gave him the finest horse at Las Palmas, too, and--" A newthought presented itself to Jose. "Ho! By the way, they were alone atthe water-hole when my cousin Panfilo was shot. Now that I think of it,they were alone together for a day and a night. I begin to wonder--"

  Longorio breathed an oath and swung his long legs over the edge of thebed. "You have poisoned my mind. A whole day and night, eh? That isbad. What happened? What kind of a fool is her husband? I cannot bearto think of this! See, I am beside myself. Caramba! I live in paradise;I come flying on the wings of the wind, only to learn that my blesseddivinity has a lover. If only my excellent Blanco had shot this fellowLaw instead of that Guzman! If only I could lay hands upon him here inMexico! Ha! There would be something to print in the American papers."He began to dress himself feverishly, muttering, as he did so: "I willpermit no one to come between us. ... The thought kills me. ... Youbring me bad news, Jose, and yet I am glad you came. I accept youroffer, and you shall be my man henceforth; ... but you shall not go outto be shot by those rebels. No, you shall return to Las Palmas to be myeyes and my ears, and, when the time comes, you shall be my hands, too.... I will avenge your cousin Panfilo for you, my word on that. Yes,and I will make you a rich man."

  Jose listened hungrily to these promises. He was relieved at the changein his plans, for, after all, a soldier's life offered few attractions,and--the food at Las Palmas was good. The general promised him finewages, too. Truly, it was fortunate that he had come to Romero.

  "Now we have settled this," Jose's new employer declared, "run away andamuse yourself until dark. Then we will take a little journey by way ofthe old ferry."

  "It is not altogether safe," ventured Jose. "That country over there isalive with refugees."

  "I will take some men with me," said Longorio. "Now go and let methink."