by Rex Beach
XXIII
THE CRASH
The several days following Dave's unexpected call at Las Palmas Alairespent in a delightful reverie. She had so often wrestled with thequestion of divorce that she had begun to weary of it; and now, whenshe tried to summon energy to consider it anew, she found herself, asusual, reasoning in a circle and arriving at no decision. She gave uptrying, at length, and for the time being rested content in theknowledge that she loved and was loved. In her heart she knew wellenough what her ultimate course would be: sooner or later events wouldforce her action. Yielding to a natural cowardice, therefore, sheresigned herself to dreamy meditations and left the future to take careof itself. A week passed while she hugged her thoughts to her breast,and then one evening she rode home to learn that Ed had returned fromSan Antonio.
But Ed was ill, and he did not appear at dinner. It had been yearssince either had dared invade the other's privacy, and now, inasmuch asher husband did not send for her, Alaire did not presume to offer herservices as nurse. As a matter of fact, she considered this quiteunnecessary, for she felt sure that he was either suffering thecustomary after-effects of a visit to the city or else that he lackedthe moral courage to undertake an explanation of his hurried flightfrom the ranch. In either event she was glad he kept to his room.
Heretofore their formal relations had made life at least tolerable toAlaire, but now she experienced a feeling of guilt at finding herselfunder the same roof with him. Oddly enough, it seemed to her that inthis she wronged Dave and not her husband; for she reasoned that,having given her love to one man, her presence in the same house withanother outraged that love.
When Austin made his appearance, on the day following his return, hisbleared eyes, his puffy, pasty cheeks, his shattered nerves, showedplainly enough how he had spent his time. Although he was jumpy andirritable, he seemed determined by an assumption of high spirits andexaggerated friendliness to avert criticism. Since Alaire spared himall reproaches, his efforts seemed to meet with admirable success. NowEd's opinion of women was not high, for those with whom he habituallyassociated were of small intelligence; and, seeing that his wifecontinued to manifest a complete indifference to his past actions, hedecided that his apprehensions had been groundless. If Alaireremembered the Guzman affair at all, or if she had suspected him ofcomplicity in it, time had evidently dulled her suspicions, and he wasa little sorry he had taken pains to stay away so long.
Before many days, however, he discovered that this indifference of herswas not assumed, and that in some way or other she had changed. Ed wasaccustomed, when he returned exhausted from a debauch, to seeing in hiswife's eyes a strained misery; he had learned to expect in her bearinga sort of pitying, hopeless resignation. But this time she was not inthe least depressed. On the contrary, she appeared happier, fresher,and younger than he had seen her for a long time. It was mystifying.When, one morning, he overheard her singing in her room, he wasshocked. Over this phenomenon he meditated with growing amazement and afaint stir of resentment in his breast, for he lived a self-centeredlife, considering himself the pivot upon which revolved all the affairsof his little world. To feel that he had lost even the power to makehis wife unhappy argued that he had overestimated his importance.
At length, having sufficiently recovered his health to begin drinkingagain, he yielded one evening to an alcoholic impulse and, just asAlaire bade him good night, clumsily sought to force an explanation.
"See here!" he shot at her. "What's the matter with you lately?" He sawthat he had startled her and that she made an effort to collect herwandering thoughts. "You're about as warm and wifely as a stone idol."
"Am I any different to what I have always been?"
"Humph! You haven't been exactly sympathetic of late. Here I come homesick, and you treat me like one of the help. Don't you think I havefeelings? Jove! I'm lonesome."
Alaire regarded him speculatively, then shook her head as if in answerto some thought.
In an obvious and somewhat too mellow effort to be friendly, Edcontinued: "Don't let's go on like this, Alaire. You blame me for goingaway so much, but, good Lord! when I'm home I feel like an interloper.You treat me like a cow-thief."
"I'm sorry. I've tried to be everything I should. I'm the interloper."
"Nonsense! If we only got along together as well as we seem to from theoutside it wouldn't be bad at all. But you're too severe. You seem tothink a man should be perfect. Well, none of us are, and I'm no worsethan the majority. Why, I know lots of fellows who forget themselvesand do things they shouldn't, but they don't mean anything by it. Theyhave wives and homes to go to when it's all over. But have I? You're asglad to see me as if I had smallpox. Maybe we've made a mess of things,but married life isn't what young girls think it is, A wife must learnto give and take."
"I've given. What have I taken?" she asked him in a voice that quivered.
Ed made an impatient gesture. "Oh, don't be so literal! I mean that,since we're man and wife, it's up to you to be a littlemore--broad-gauge in your views."
"In other words, you want me to ignore your conduct. Is that it? I'mafraid we can't argue that, Ed."
Within the last few days Austin's mind had registered a number of newimpressions, and at this moment he realized that his wife wasundoubtedly the most attractive woman physically he had ever known. Ofcourse she was cold, but she had not always been so. He had chilledher; he had seen the fire die year by year, but now the memory of heras she had once been swept over him, bringing a renewed appreciation ofher charms. His recent dissipation had told upon him as heavily as asiege of sickness, and this evening he was in that fatuous, sentimentalmood which comes with convalescence, Having no fault to find withhimself, and feeling merely a selfish desire to make more pleasant hislife at Las Palmas, he undertook to bend Alaire to his will.
"All right; don't let's try to argue it," he laughed, with what heconsidered an admirable show of magnanimity. "I hate arguments, anyhow;I'd much rather have a goodnight kiss."
But when he stooped over her Alaire held him off and turned her head."No!" she said.
"You haven't kissed me for--"
"I don't wish to kiss you."
"Don't be silly," he insisted. This suggestion of physical resistanceexcited his love of conquest and awoke something like the mood of alover--such a lover as a man like Ed could be. For a moment he felt asif Alaire were some other woman than his wife, a woman who refused andyet half expected to be overcome; therefore he laughed self-consciouslyand repeated, "Come now, I want a kiss."
Alaire thrust him back strongly, and he saw that her face had whitened.Oddly enough, her stubbornness angered him out of all reason, and hebegan a harsh remonstrance. But he halted when she cried:
"Wait! I must tell you something, Ed. It's all over, and has been for along time. We're going to end it."
"End it?"
"We can't go on living together. Why should we?"
"So? Divorce? Is that it?"
Alaire nodded.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Ed was dumfounded. "Isn't this rather sudden?"he managed to inquire.
"Oh no. You've suggested it more than once."
"I thought you didn't believe in divorces--couldn't stomach 'em? What'shappened?"
"I have changed my mind."
"Humph! People don't change their minds in a minute," he cried,angrily. "Is there some other man?"
Now Ed Austin had no faintest idea that his wife would answer in theaffirmative, for he had long ago learned to put implicit confidence inher, and her life had been so open that he could not imagine that itheld a double interest. Therefore her reply struck him speechless.
"Yes, Ed," she said, quietly, "there is another man."
It was like her not to evade. She had never lied to him.
Ed's mouth opened; his reddened eyes protruded. "Well--" he stammered."Well, by God!" Then after a moment: "Who is it, the Greaser or thecowboy?" He laughed loudly, disagreeably. "It must be one or the other,for you haven't seen any men
except them. Another man! Well, you'recool about it."
"I am glad you know the truth."
Muttering to himself, Ed made a short excursion around the room, thenpaused before his wife with a sneer on his lips. "Did it ever occur toyou that I might object?" he demanded.
Alaire eyed him scornfully. "What right have you to object?"
Ed could not restrain a malevolent gleam of curiosity. "Say, who is it?Ain't I entitled to know that much?" As Alaire remained silent he lethis eyes rove over her with a kind of angry appreciation. "You'repretty enough to stampede any man," he admitted. "Yes, and you've gotmoney, too. I'll bet it's the Ranger. So, you've been having your flingwhile I was away. Hunh! We're tarred with the same stick."
"You don't really believe that," she told him, sharply.
"Why not? You've had enough opportunity. I don't see anything of you,and haven't for years. Well, I was a fool to trust you."
Alaire's eyes were very dark and very bright as she said: "I wonder howI have managed to live with you as long as I have. I knew you wereweak, nasty--so I was prepared for something like this. But I neverthought you were a downright criminal until--"
"Criminal? Rot!"
"How about that Guzman affair? You can't go much lower, Ed, and youcan't keep me here with you."
"I can't keep you, eh?" he growled. "Well, perhaps not. I supposeyou've got enough on me to secure a divorce, but I can air some of yourdirty linen. Oh, don't look like that! I mean it! Didn't you spend anight with David Law?" He leered at her unpleasantly, then followed astep as she drew back.
"Don't you touch me!" she cried.
A flush was deepening Ed's purple cheeks; his voice was peculiarlybrutal and throaty as he said: "The decree isn't entered yet, and solong as you are Mrs. Austin I have rights. Yes, and I intend toexercise them. You've made me jealous, and, by God--" He made toencircle her with his arms and was half successful, but when Alairefelt the heat of his breath in her face a sick loathing sprang upwithin her, and, setting her back against the wall, she sent himreeling. Whether she struck him or merely pushed him away she neverknew, for during the instant of their struggle she was blind withindignation and fury. Profiting by her advantage, she dodged past him,fled to her room, and locked herself in.
She heard him muttering profanely; heard him approach her chamber morethan once, then retire uncertainly, but she knew him too well to beafraid.
Later that night she wrote two letters--one to Judge Ellsworth, theother to Dave Law.
Jose Sanchez rode to the Morales house feeling some concern over thesummons that took him thither. He wondered what could have inducedGeneral Longorio to forsake his many important duties in order to makethe long trip from Nuevo Pueblo; surely it could be due to no lack ofzeal on his, Jose's, part. No! The horse-breaker flattered himself thathe had made a very good spy indeed; that he had been Longorio's eyesand ears so far as circumstances permitted. Nor did he feel that he hadbeen lax in making his reports, for through Rosa he had written thegeneral several lengthy letters, and just for good measure these twohad conjured up sundry imaginary happenings to prove beyond doubt thatSenora Austin was miserably unhappy with her husband and ready towelcome such a dashing lover as Longorio. Therefore Jose could not forthe life of him imagine wherein he had been remiss. Nevertheless, hewas uneasy, and he hoped that nothing had occurred to anger his general.
But Longorio, when he arrived at the meeting-place, was not in a badhumor. Having sent Rosa away on some errand, he turned to Jose with aflashing smile, and said:
"Well, my good friend, the time has come."
Now Jose had no faintest idea what the general was talking about, butto be called the good friend of so illustrious a person was flattering.He nodded decisively.
"Yes, beyond doubt," he agreed.
"Mexico is in a bad way. These rebels are growing by the thousands;they overrun the country like ants. You read the papers, eh?"
"Sometimes; when there are enough pictures," said Jose.
"Ha! Then I doubt if you know what is happening. Well, I'll have totell you. Our enemies have taken all northern Mexico except that partwhich is under my control; but they are pushing toward me from twosides, and I prepare to retreat. That is not the worst, however; theGringos are hoping to profit by Mexico's distress; they are makingready to invade our Fatherland, and every Mexican must fight or becomea slave."
This was indeed news! Jose began patriotically cursing the wholeAmerican people.
"Understand, I make you my confidant because I think a great deal ofyou, Jose." The general laid an affectionate hand upon Jose's shoulder."The first time I saw you I said: 'There's a boy after my own heart. Ishall learn to love that Jose, and I shall put him in the way of hisfortune.' Well, I have not changed my mind, and the time is come. Youare going to help me and I am going to help you."
Jose Sanchez thrilled with elation from head to foot. This promised tobe the greatest day of his life, and he felt that he must be dreaming.
"You haven't tired of Rosa, eh? You still wish to marry her?" Longoriowas inquiring.
"Yes. But, of course, I'm a poor man."
"Just so. I shall attend to that. Now we come to the object of myvisit. Jose, I propose to make you rich enough in one day so that youcan marry."
"But first, wait!" exclaimed the horse-breaker. "I bring you somethingof value, too." Desiring to render favor for favor, and to show that hewas fully deserving of the general's generosity, Jose removed frominside the sweatband of his hat a sealed, stamped letter, which hehanded to his employer. "Yesterday I carried the mail to town, but as Irode away from Las Palmas the senora handed me this, with a silverdollar for myself. Look! It is written to the man we both hate."
Longorio took the letter, read the inscription, and then opened theenvelope. Jose looked on with pleasure while he spelled out thecontents.
When the general had finished reading, he exclaimed: "Ho! A miracle!Now I know all that I wish to know."
"Then I did well to steal that letter, eh?"
"Diablo! Yes! That brute of a husband makes my angel's life unbearable,and she flees to La Feria to be rid of him. Good! It fits in with myplans. She will be surprised to see me there. Then, when the war comesand all is chaos then what? I'll warrant I can make her forget certainthings and certain people." Longorio nodded with satisfaction. "You didvery well, Jose."
The latter leaned forward, his eyes bright. "That lady is rich. A fineprize, truly. She would bring a huge ransom."
This remark brought a smile to Longorio's face. "My dear friend, you donot in the least understand," he said. "Ransom! What an idea!" He losthimself in meditation, then, rousing, spoke briskly: "Listen! In two,three days, your senora will leave Las Palmas. When she is gone youwill perform your work, like the brave man I know you to be. You willrelieve her of her husband."
Jose hesitated, and the smile vanished from his face. "Senor Ed is nota bad man. He likes me; he--" Longorio's gaze altered and Jose fellsilent.
"Come! You are not losing heart, eh? Have I not promised to make you arich man? Well, the time has arrived." Seeing that Jose stillmanifested no eagerness, the general went on in a different tone: "Donot think that you can withdraw from our little arrangement. Oh no! Doyou remember a promise I made to you when you came to me in Romero? Isaid that if you played me false I would bury you to the neck in ananthill and fill your mouth with honey. I keep my promises."
Jose's struggle was brief; he promptly resigned himself to theinevitable. With every evidence of sincerity he assured Longorio of hisloyalty, and denied the least intention of betraying his general'sconfidence. What, after all, was his mission upon earth if not to serveLongorio's interests? One might have a peaceful heart and still be aman. Jose was every inch a man; he was a very devil when he let himselfgo, and his Excellency need have no fears as to the outcome of theirplan. After all, the GRINGOS were enemies, and there was no one of themwho did not merit destruction.
Pleased with these sentiments, and feeling sufficiently
assured thatJose was now really in the proper frame of mind to suit his purpose,Longorio took the winding trail back toward Sangre de Cristo.
