Heart of the Sunset

by Rex Beach

  XVIII

  ED AUSTIN TURNS AT BAY

  Had it not been for her fears, Paloma Jones would have taken her visitto the Austin ranch as an unmixed enjoyment. To her Alaire had alwaysbeen an ideally romantic figure. More than once, in her moments ofmelancholy, Paloma had envied Mrs. Austin's unhappiness and yearned tobear a similar sorrow--to be crossed in love and to become known as awoman of tragedy. To have one's life blasted, one's happiness slain bysome faithless lover, impressed the girl as interesting, thrilling.Moreover, it was a misfortune calculated to develop one's highestspiritual nature. Surely nothing could be more sadly satisfying than tolive alone with regretful memories and to have the privilege ofregarding the world as a vain show. Unfortunately, however, Paloma wastoo healthy and too practical to remain long occupied with suchthoughts. She was disgustingly optimistic and merry; misanthropy wasentirely lacking in her make-up; and none of her admirers seemed theleast bit inclined to faithlessness. On the contrary, the men she knewwere perfect nuisances in their earnestness of purpose, and she couldnot manage to fall in love with any one sufficiently depraved topromise her the slightest misery. Paloma felt that she was hopelesslycommonplace.

  Now that she had an opportunity of becoming better acquainted with theobject of her envy, she made the most of it. She soon found, however,that Alaire possessed anything but an unhappy disposition, and that topity her was quite impossible. Mrs. Austin was shy and retiring,certainly, at first, but, once the ice was broken, she was delightfullyfrank, friendly, and spirited.

  Paloma's curiosity was all-consuming, and she explored every phase ofher new friend's life with interest and delight. She even discoveredthat imaginary world of Alaire's, and learned something about thosevisionary people who bore her company.

  "It must be lots of fun," said Paloma.

  "Yes. Sometimes my dream-people are very real, Why--I can actually seethem. Then I realize I have been too much alone."

  "You ought to have children," the girl declared, calmly.

  "I have. Yes! Imaginary kiddies--and they are perfect dears, too."

  "Are they ever naughty?"

  "Oh, indeed they are! And I have to punish them. Then I feel terribly.But they're much nicer than flesh-and-blood children, for they have nobad traits whatever, and they're so amazingly intelligent."

  Such exchanges of confidence drew the women into fairly close relationsby the time they had arrived at Las Palmas, but the thought of what hadbrought them together had a sobering effect, and during their hastysupper they discussed the situation in all its serious phases.

  In offering to lend a hand in this difficulty, Alaire had acted largelyupon impulse, and now that she took time to think over the affair morecoolly, she asked herself what possible business of hers it could be.How did this effort to secure Don Ricardo's body concern her? And howcould she hope or expect to be of help to the men engaged in thehazardous attempt? With Paloma, of course, it was different: the girlwas anxious on her father's account, and probably concerned more deeplythan was Alaire for the safety of Dave Law. Probably she and Dave hadan understanding--it would be natural. Well, Paloma was a nice girl andshe would make a splendid wife for any man.

  For her part, Paloma was troubled by no uncertainty of purpose; it didnot seem to her at all absurd to go to her father's assistance, and shewas so eager to be up and away that the prospect of a long evening'swait made her restless.

  As usual, Ed Austin had not taken the trouble to inform his wife of hiswhereabouts; Alaire was relieved to find that he was out, and shedecided that he had probably stayed at Tad Lewis's for supper.

  The women were seated on the porch after their meals when up thedriveway rode two horsemen. A moment later a tall figure mounted thesteps and came forward with outstretched hand, crying, in Spanish:

  "Senora! I surprise you. Well, I told you some day I should give myselfthis great pleasure. I am here!"

  "General Longorio! But--what a surprise!" Alaire's amazement was naive;her face was that of a startled school-girl. The Mexican warmly kissedher fingers, then turned to meet Paloma Jones. As he bowed the womenexchanged glances over his head. Miss Jones looked frankly frightened,and her expression plainly asked the meaning of Longorio's presence. Toherself, she was wondering if it could have anything to do with thatexpedition to the Romero cemetery. She tried to compose herself, butapprehension flooded her.

  Alaire, meanwhile, her composure recovered, was standing slim andmotionless beside her chair, inquiring smoothly: "What brings you intoTexas at such a time, my dear general? This is quite extraordinary."

  "Need you ask me?" cried the man. "I would ride through a thousandperils, senora. God in his graciousness placed that miserable villageRomero close to the gates of Heaven. Why should I not presume to lookthrough them briefly? I came two days ago, and every hour since then Ihave turned my eyes in the direction of Las Palmas. At last I couldwait no longer." A courtly bow at the conclusion of these words robbedthe speech of its audacity and tinged it with the licensed extravaganceof Latin flattery. Nevertheless, Paloma gasped and Alaire stirreduncomfortably. The semi-darkness of the veranda was an invitation toeven more daring compliments, and, therefore, as she murmured a politeword of welcome, Alaire stepped through the French window at her backand into the brightly lighted living-room. Paloma Jones followed as ifin a trance.

  Longorio's bright eyes took a swift inventory of his surroundings; thenhe sighed luxuriously.

  "How fine!" said he. "How beautiful! A nest for a bird of paradise!"

  "Don't you consider this rather a mad adventure?" Alaire insisted."Suppose it should become known that you crossed the river?"

  Longorio snapped his fingers. "I answer to no one; I am supreme. Butyour interest warms my heart; it thrills me to think you care for mysafety. Thus am I repaid for my days of misery."

  "You surely did not"--Paloma swallowed hard--"come alone?"

  "No. I have a duty to my country. I said, 'Luis, you are a brave man,and fear is a stranger to you, but, nevertheless, you must have regardfor the Fatherland'; so I took measures to protect myself in case ofeventualities."

  "How?"

  "By bringing with me some of my troopers. Oh, they are peaceablefellows!" he declared, quickly; "and they are doubtless enjoyingthemselves with our friend and sympathizer, Morales."

  "Where?" asked Alaire.

  "I left them at your pumping-plant, senora." Paloma Jones sat downheavily in the nearest chair. "But you need have no uneasiness. Theyare quiet and orderly; they will molest nothing; no one would believethem to be soldiers. I take liberties with the laws and the customs ofyour country, dear lady, but--you would not care for a man who allowedsuch considerations to stand in his way, eh?"

  Alaire answered, sharply: "It was a very reckless thing to do, and--youmust not remain here."

  "Yes, yes!" Paloma eagerly agreed. "You must go back at once."

  But Longorio heard no voice except Alaire's. In fact, since enteringthe living-room he had scarcely taken his eyes from her. Now he drewhis evenly arched brows together in a plaintive frown, saying, "You areinhospitable!" Then his expression lightened. "Or is it," he asked--"isit that you are indeed apprehensive for me?"

  Alaire tried to speak quietly. "I should never forgive myself if youcame to harm here at my ranch."

  Longorio sighed. "And I hoped for a warmer welcome--especially since Ihave done you another favor. You saw that hombre who came with me?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, you would never guess that it is your Jose Sanchez, whom Iprevailed upon to return to your employ. But it is no other; and hecomes to beg your forgiveness for leaving. He was distracted at thenews of his cousin's murder, and came to me--"

  "His cousin was not murdered."

  "Exactly! I told him so when I had learned the facts. A poor fellowthis Panfilo--evidently a very bad man, indeed--but Jose admired himand was harboring thoughts of revenge. I said to him: 'Jose, my boy, itis better to do nothing than to act wrongly. Since it was God's willthat you
r cousin came to a bad end, why follow in his footsteps? Youwill not make a good soldier. Go back to your beautiful employer, beloyal to her, and think no more about this unhappy affair.' It requiredsome argument, I assure you, but--he is here. He comes to ask yourforgiveness and to resume his position of trust."

  "I am glad to have him back if he feels that way. I have nothingwhatever to forgive him."

  "Then he will be happy, and I have served you. That is the end of thematter." With a graceful gesture Longorio dismissed the subject. "Is itto be my pleasure," he next inquired, "to meet Senor Austin, yourhusband?"

  "I am afraid not."

  "Too bad. I had hoped to know him and convince him that we Federalesare not such a bad people as he seems to think. We ought to be friends,he and I. Every loyal Mexican, in these troublesome times, desires thegoodwill and friendship of such important personages as Senor Austin.This animosity is a sad thing."

  Under this flow of talk Paloma stirred uneasily, and at the firstopportunity burst out: "It's far from safe for you to remain here,General Longorio. This neighborhood is terribly excited over the deathof Ricardo Guzman, and if any one learned--"

  "So! Then this Guzman is dead?" Longorio inquired, with interest.

  "Isn't he?" blurted Paloma.

  "Not so far as I can learn. Only to-day I made official report thatnothing whatever could be discovered about him. Certainly he is nowherein Romero, and it is my personal belief that the poor fellow was eitherdrowned in the river or made way with for his money. Probably the truthwill never be known. It is a distressing event, but I assure you mysoldiers do not kill American citizens. It is our boast that Federalterritory is safe; one can come or go at will in any part of Mexicothat is under Potosista control. I sincerely hope that we have heardthe last of this Guzman affair."

  Longorio had come to spend the evening, and his keen pleasure in AlaireAustin's company made him so indifferent to his personal safety thatnothing short of a rude dismissal would have served to terminate hisvisit. Neither Alaire nor her companion, however, had the least ideahow keenly he resented the presence of Paloma Jones. Ed Austin'sabsence he had half expected, and he had wildly hoped for an evening,an hour, a few moments, alone with the object of his desires. Jose'sdisclosures, earlier in the day, had opened the general's eyes; theyhad likewise inflamed him with jealousy and with passion, andaccordingly he had come prepared to force his attentions withirresistible fervor should the slightest opportunity offer. To findAlaire securely chaperoned, therefore, and to be compelled to press hisardent advances in the presence of a third party, was like gall to him;the fact that he made the most of his advantages, even at the cost ofscandalizing Paloma, spoke volumes for his determination.

  It was a remarkable wooing; on the one hand this half-savage man,gnawed by jealousy, heedless of the illicit nature of his passion, yetheld within the bounds of decorum by some fag-end of respectability;and on the other hand, a woman, bored, resentful, and tortured at themoment by fear about what was happening at the river-bank.

  Alaire, too, had a further cause for worry. Of late Ed Austin had growninsultingly suspicious. More than once he had spoken of Dave Law in away to make his wife's face crimson, and he had wilfully misconstruedher recital of Longorio's attentions. Fearing, therefore, that in spiteof Paloma Jones's presence Ed would resent the general's call, Alairestrained her ears for the sound of his coming.

  It was late when Austin arrived. Visitors at Las Palmas were unusual atany time; hence the sound of strange voices in the brightly lightedliving-room at such an hour surprised him. He came tramping in, bootedand spurred, a belligerent look of inquiry upon his bloated features.But when he had met his wife's guests his surprise turned to blackdispleasure. His own sympathies in the Mexican struggle were sonotorious that Longorio's presence seemed to him to have but onepossible significance. Why Paloma Jones was here he could not imagine.

  Thus far Alaire's caller had succeeded in ignoring Miss Jones, and now,with equal self-assurance, he refused to recognize Ed's hostility. Heremained at ease, and appeared to welcome this chance of meetingAustin. Yet it soon became evident that his opinion of his host was farfrom flattering; beneath his politeness he began to show an amusedcontempt, which Alaire perceived, even though her husband did not. LuisLongorio was the sort of man who enjoys a strained situation, and onewho shows to the best advantage under adverse conditions. Accordingly,Ed's arrival, instead of hastening his departure, merely served toprolong his stay.

  It was growing very late now, and Paloma was frantic. Profiting by herfirst opportunity, she whispered to Alaire "For God's sake, send himaway."

  Alaire's eyes were dark with excitement, "Yes," said she. "Talk to him,and give me a chance to have a word alone with Ed."

  The opportunity came when Austin went into the dining-room for a drink.Alaire excused herself to follow him. When they were out of sight andhearing her husband turned upon her with an ugly frown.

  "What's that Greaser doing here?" he asked, roughly.

  "He called to pay his respects. You must get him away."

  "_I_ must?" Ed glowered at her. "Why don't you? You got him here in myabsence. Now that I'm home you want me to get rid of him, eh? What'sthe idea?"

  "Don't be silly. I didn't know he was coming and--he must be crazy torisk such a thing."

  "Crazy?" Ed's lip curled. "He isn't crazy. I suppose he couldn't stayaway any longer. By God, Alaire--"

  Alaire checked this outburst with a sharp exclamation: "Don't make ascene! Don't you understand he holds over fifty thousand dollars' worthof La Feria cattle? Don't you understand we can't antagonize him?"

  "Is that what he came to see you about?"

  "Yes." She bit her lip. "I'll explain everything, but--you must help mesend him back, right away." Glancing at the clock, Alaire saw that itwas drawing on toward midnight; with quick decision she seized herhusband by the arm, explaining feverishly: "There is something biggoing on to-night, Ed! Longorio brought a guard of soldiers with himand left them at our pump-house. Well, it so happens that Blaze Jonesand Mr. Law have gone to the Romero cemetery to get Ricardo Guzman'sbody."

  "WHAT?" Austin's red face paled, his eyes bulged.

  "Yes. That's why Paloma is here. They crossed at our pumping-station,and they'll be back at any time, now. If they encounter Longorio'smen--You understand?"

  "God Almighty!" Austin burst forth. "Ricardo Guzman's body!" He wet hislips and swallowed with difficulty. "Why--do they want the body?"

  "To prove that he is really dead and--to prove who killed him." Notingthe effect of these words, Alaire cried, sharply, "What's the matter,Ed?"

  But Austin momentarily was beyond speech. The decanter from which hewas trying to pour himself a drink played a musical tattoo upon hisglass; his face had become ashen and pasty.

  "Have they got the body? Do they know who shot him?" he asked, dully.

  "No, no!" Alaire was trembling with impatience. "Don't you understand?They are over there now, and they'll be back about midnight. IfLongorio had come alone, or if he had left his men at Sangre de Cristo,everything would be all right. But those soldiers at Morales's housewill be up and awake. Why, it couldn't have happened worse!" "How manymen has he got?" Austin nodded in the direction of the front room.

  "I don't know. Probably four or five. What ails you?"

  "That--won't do. They won't--fight on this side of the river.They--they'd hold them off."

  "Who? What are you talking about?"

  Something in her husband's inexplicable agitation, something in thehunted, desperate way in which his eyes were running over the room,alarmed Alaire.

  Ed utterly disregarded her question. Catching sight of the telephone,which stood upon a stand in the far corner of the room, he ran to itand, snatching the receiver, violently oscillated the hook.

  "Don't do that!" Alaire cried, following him. "Wait! It mustn't getout."

  "Hello! Give me the Lewis ranch--quick--I've forgotten the number."With his free hand Ed held his wife at a di
stance, muttering harshly:"Get away now! I know what I'm doing. Get away--damn you!" He flungAlaire from him as she tried to snatch the instrument out of his hands.

  "What do you want of Lewis?" she panted.

  "None of your business. You keep away or I'll hurt you."

  "Ed!" she cried, "Are you out of your mind? You mustn't--"

  Their voices were raised now, heedless of the two people In theadjoining room.

  "Keep your hands off, I tell you. Hello! Is that you, Tad?" AgainAustin thrust his wife violently aside. "Listen! I've just learned thatDave Law and old man Jones have crossed over to dig up Ricardo's body.Yes, to-night! They're over there now--be back inside of an hour."

  Alaire leaned weakly against the table, her frightened eyes fixed uponthe speaker. Even yet she could not fully grasp the meaning of herhusband's behavior and tried to put aside those fears that weredistracting her. Perhaps, after all, she told herself, Ed was takinghis own way to--

  "Yes! They aim to discover how he was killed and all about it. Sure! Isuppose they found out where he was buried. They crossed at mypumping-plant, and they'll be back with the body to-night, if theyhaven't already--" The speaker's voice broke, his hand was shaking sothat he could scarcely retain his hold upon the telephone. "How thehell do I know?" he chattered. "It's up to you. You've got a machine--"

  "ED!" cried the wife. She went toward him on weak, unsteady feet, butshe halted as the voice of Longorio cut in sharply:

  "What's this I hear? Ricardo Guzman's body?" Husband and wife turned.The open double-door to the living-room framed the tall figure of theMexican general.