by Rex Beach
XXIX
THE PRIEST FROM MONCLOVA
That was a night of terror for the women. Although Longorio'sdiscipline was in some ways strict, in others it was extremely lax.From some quarter his men had secured a supply of mescal, and,forgetful of Felipe's unhappy fate, they rendered the hours hideous.There were singing and quarreling, and a shot or two sounded from thedirection of the outbuildings. Morning found both Alaire and Doloressadly overwrought. But they felt some relief upon learning that thegeneral had been unexpectedly summoned from his bed at daylight, andhad ridden to the telegraph office.
Profiting by his absence, Alaire ventured from her room, racking herbrain to devise some means of escape. But soldiers were everywhere;they lolled around the servants' quarters; they dozed in the shade ofthe ranch buildings, recovering from the night's debauch; and an armedsentinel who paced the hacienda road gave evidence that, despite theirapparent carelessness, they had by no means relaxed their vigilance. Around of the premises convinced Alaire that the place was effectuallyguarded, and showed her the futility of trying to slip away. Sherealized, too, that even if she managed to do so, her plight would belittle better. For how could she hope to cover the hundred milesbetween La Feria and the Rio Grande when every peon was an enemy?
She was standing in one of the open, sashless windows when her formerprotector, the old lieutenant, bade her good morning and paused tosmoke a cigarette.
"Well, it was a great night, wasn't it?" he began. "And we have greatnews this morning. We are going to fight you gringos."
"I hope not."
"Yes; it will probably go hard with you. Tell me, this city ofWashington is a fine city, and very rich, is it not?"
"Oh yes."
"It's full of loot, eh? Especially the President's palace? That isgood. One can never believe all one hears."
"Why do you ask?" Alaire was curious.
"I was thinking it would pay us to go there. If your soldiers marchupon Mexico City, it would be a brilliant piece of strategy for GeneralLongorio to invade the United States, would it not? It would be funnyto capture Washington and hold your President for ransom, eh?"
"Very funny," Alaire agreed, dryly. "How would you go about it?"
Pancho shrugged. "That is the trouble. We would have to march aroundTexas, I presume."
"Around Texas?"
"Yes. You see, Texas is a bad country; it is full of--barbarians whoknow how to fight. If it were not for Texas we would have the UnitedStates at our mercy." After some consideration he ventured thisopinion: "We could afford to pay the Texans for allowing us to ridethrough their country, provided we stole nothing and paid for thecattle we ate. Well, Longorio is a great one for schemes; he is talkingover the telegraph with somebody at this moment. Perhaps it is thePresident of Texas."
"You are a poor man, are you not?" Alaire inquired.
"Miserably poor."
"Would you like to make a great deal of money?"
"Dios! That is why I'm a soldier."
"I will pay you well to get me two horses--"
But old Pancho shook his head vigorously. "Impossible! General Longoriois going to marry you. We all got drunk last night to celebrate thewedding. Yes, and the priest is waiting."
"I will make you rich."
"Ho! I wouldn't live to spend a single peso. Felipe disobeyed orders,and the general shot him before he could cross himself. Boom! The poorfellow was in hell in a minute. No. We will all be rich after we win afew battles and capture some American cities. I am an old man; I shallleave the drinking and the women to the young fellows, and prepare formy old age."
Seeing that she could not enlist Pancho's aid, Alaire begged him tofetch the priest.
"You wish spiritual comfort, senora?"
"Perhaps."
"Well, he doesn't look like much of a priest, but probably he will do.As for me, I don't believe in such things. Churches are all very wellfor ignorant people, but we Mexicans are too intelligent; we are makingan end of them."
The priest was a small, white-haired man with a gentle, almost timidface, and at the moment when he appeared before Alaire he was inanything but a happy frame of mind. He had undergone, he told her, aterrible experience. His name was O'Malley. He had come from Monclova,whence the Rebels had banished him under threat of death. He had seenhis church despoiled of its valuables, his school closed; he himselfhad managed to escape only by a miracle. During his flight toward theborder he had suffered every indignity, and finally Longorio hadintercepted him and brought him here, practically in chains.
"What a situation! What chaos!" he lamented. "The land is overrun withbandits; there is no law, no authority, no faith; religion is made amockery. The men are becoming infidels and atheists, and in many placesthey will not allow us to give comfort even to their women."
"Is it as bad as that?"
Father O'Malley shook his head sadly. "You've no idea. What do youthink of a people who forbid the mention of God's name in theirschools? That is what the revolutionists are doing. Candeleria claimsthat the churches are the property of the State. He confiscates them,and he charges admission. He has banished all except a few of uspriests, and has shamefully persecuted our Sisters of Mercy. Oh, theoutrages! Mexico is, today, the blackest spot on the map ofChristendom." His voice broke. "That is the freedom, the liberty, thedemocracy, for which they are fighting. That is the new Mexico. And theFederals are not a bit better. This Longorio, for instance,this--wolf--he brings me here, as his prisoner, to solemnize an unholymarriage! He treats me like a dog. Last night I slept in a filthyhovel--"
"Oh! I'm sorry," Alaire exclaimed. "But I'm half crazed with my owntroubles. You must come into the house; the best I have is yours. Youshall be as much my guest as I can make you, and--perhaps you will helpme to escape."
"Escape?" The little man smiled mournfully. "You are watched andguarded, and so am I. Even if you got away from here, what then? Youcan't imagine the condition of the country."
"I won't marry him!" Alaire cried, with a shudder. "I won't!"
"He can't very well force you to do so. But remember, these are wartimes; the man is a fiend, and he puts no restraint upon his desires.If he is madly bent on having you, how can you prevent it? In normaltimes he would not dare injure one so prominent as you, but now--"Father O'Malley lifted his hands. "I only wonder that he suggests alawful marriage. Suppose you refuse? Will he not sacrifice you to hispassions? He has done worse things." After a moment's consideration hesaid: "Of course it is possible that I misjudge him. Anyhow, if youdesire me to do so I will refuse to perform the ceremony. But--I'mafraid it will just mean ruin for both of us."
"Surely he wouldn't harm you?"
The Father shrugged. "What am I? An obscure priest. Many of my brothersare buried in Mexico. However, I shall do as you wish."
As the day wore on Alaire realized even more clearly the fact that shewas Longorio's prisoner. His men, in spite of their recent debauch,kept a very good watch over her, and it was plain that they would obeyhis orders, no matter how extreme. It occurred to her finally that hewas staying away purposely, in order to give her a fuller appreciationof her position--so that she might beat her wings against the cageuntil exhausted.
Afternoon came, then evening, and still Longorio did not return, FatherO'Malley could give scant comfort; Dolores was a positive trial.
Half distracted, Alaire roamed through the house, awaiting her captor'scoming, steeling herself for their final battle. But the delay wastrying; she longed for the crisis to come, that this intolerablesuspense might be ended. At such an hour her thoughts naturally turnedto Dave Law, and she found herself yearning for him with a yearningutterly new. His love had supported her through those miserable days atLas Palmas, but now it was a torture; she called his name wildly,passionately. He knew her whereabouts and her peril--why did he notcome? Then, more calmly, she asked herself what he, or what any one,could do for her. How could she look for succor when two nations wereat war?
Night had come befo
re she finally gave up and acknowledged thehopelessness of her situation. She had fought bravely, but withdarkness her fears grew blacker. She was on the verge of her firstbreakdown when, in the early dusk outside, she heard voices and thestamping of horses' hoofs. The sounds were muffled by the heavy woodenshutters she had taken pains to close and bar, but they told her thatLongorio had returned. Since it was futile to deny him entrance, shewaited where she was. Old Pancho's voice sounded outside; then therecame a knock upon the door of the room in which she stood.
"Come in," she said, tensely.
The lieutenant thrust his head in and, removing his hat, announced,"There is someone here to see General Longorio on important business.He says you will do."
"I?"
"Yes. He says he is one of us--"
Pancho was pushed aside, the door was flung back, and a man strodeswiftly into the lamplight. He paused, blinking as if momentarilyblinded, and Alaire clutched at the nearest chair for support. Aroaring began in her ears; she felt herself sway forward as if thestrength had left her knees. She heard Dave's voice faintly; he wassaying:
"Take care of my horse. Feed and water her well. Understand? WhenGeneral Longorio comes tell him I am waiting here."
As if in a dream, Alaire saw the Mexican go out, closing the doorbehind him. Then she saw Dave come toward her, heard him speak hername, felt his arms around her.
Alaire did not swoon, but she never could remember very distinctlythose first few moments. Scarcely knowing what she did, she foundherself clinging to her lover, laughing, weeping, feeling him over withshaking hands that would not be convinced of his reality. She was awareof his kisses upon her lips, her eyes, her hair; he was sayingsomething which she could not understand because of that roaring in herears.
"You heard me calling," she told him at last. "Oh, I was--sofrightened!" She clung closer to him. After a time she discovered thatshe was mechanically nodding and shaking her head at the questions hewas putting to her, but had only the vaguest idea what they were. Byand by she began to tell him about Longorio, speaking in a sort ofhypnotic murmur, as if her words issued at his mental suggestion. Andall the time she snuggled against his breast.
"Dearest!" Dave held her away in gentle hands. "I was afraid you'd goto pieces like this, but I had to break through the best way I could. Ilearned you were here and something about what was going on from thepeople at the next ranch. But I expected to find HIM here, too."
"How did you manage to get here?"
"I hardly know. I just wouldn't let 'em stop me. This lieutenantwouldn't let me in until I told him I was from Monterey with importantnews. I don't remember all I did tell him. I tried to get here lastnight, but I had trouble. They caught me, and I had to buy my waythrough. I've bribed and bullied and lied clear from Romero. I reckonthey couldn't imagine I'd risk being here if I wasn't a friend."
It was more Dave's tone than his words that roused Alaire to anappreciation of what he said.
"Are you alone?" she asked, in vague dismay. "Then what are we going todo?"
"I don't know yet. My plans ended here."
"Dave! You rode in just to find me! Just to be with me?"
"Yes. And to get HIM." Alaire saw his face twitch, and realized that itwas very haggard, very old and tired. "They lifted my guns--a bunch offellows at the Rio Negro crossing. Some of them were drunk and wouldn'tbelieve I was an amigo. So I finally had to ride for it."
"Can't you take me away?" she asked, faintly. "What will you dowhen--he comes?"
"I reckon I'll manage him somehow." His grip upon her tightenedpainfully, and she could feel him tremble. "I was afraid I wouldn'tfind you. I--O God, Alaire!" He buried his face in her hair.
"I had a terrible scene with him last night. He insists upon marryingme. I--I was hoping you'd come."
"How could I, when nobody knew where you were?"
"Didn't you know? I wrote you." He shook his head. "Then how did youlearn?"
"From Jose. I caught him within an hour of the murder, and made himtell me everything."
Alaire's eyes dilated; she held herself away, saying, breathlessly:"Murder! Is that what it was? He--Longorio--told me something quitedifferent."
"Naturally. It was he who hired Jose to do the shooting."
"Oh-h!" Alaire hid her face in her hands. She looked up again quickly,however, and her cheeks were white. "Then he won't spare you, Dave."She choked for an instant. "We must get away before he comes. Theremust be some way of escape. Think!"
"I'm pretty tired to think. I'm pretty near played out," he confessed.
"They're watching me, but they'd let you go."
"Now that I'm here I'm going to stay until--"
She interrupted, crying his name loudly, "Dave!"
"Yes. What is it?"
"Wait! Let me think." She closed her eyes; her brows drew together asif in the labor of concentration. When she lifted her lids her eyeswere alight, her voice was eager. "I know how. I see it. He won'tdare--But you must do what I tell you."
"Of course."
"No questions. Understand?"
When he nodded impatiently she ran to the door and, flinging it open,called down the hall:
"Father! Father O'Malley! Quick!" Then she summoned Dolores.
The priest answered; he hurried from his room and, with a dazed lack ofcomprehension, acknowledged his swift introduction to Dave. Alaire waskeenly alive and vibrant with purpose now. Dolores, too, came running,and while the men were exchanging greetings her mistress murmuredsomething in her ear, then hastened her departure with a quick push.Turning upon the others, Alaire explained:
"I've sent for some of the women, and they'll be here in a minute.Father, this man has come for me. He loves me. Will you marry us,before Longorio arrives?"
"Alaire!" Dave exclaimed.
She stilled him with a gesture. "Quick! Will you?"
Father O'Malley was bewildered. "I don't understand," he expostulated.
"Nor I," echoed Dave.
"You don't need to understand. I know what I'm doing. I've thought of away to save us all."
Through Dave's mind flashed the memory of that thing which had hauntedhim and made his life a nightmare. An incoherent refusal was upon hislips, but Alaire's face besought him; it was shining with a strange,new ecstasy, and he could not bring himself to deny her. Of what herplan consisted he had only the dimmest idea, but he assured himselfthat it could by no possibility succeed. After all, what did it matter?he asked himself. They were trapped. This might serve, somehow, tocheat Longorio, and--Alaire would be his wife.
"Very well," he stammered, weakly. "What are you thinking of?"
"I haven't thought it all out yet, but--"
At that moment Dolores returned, bringing with her the threeblack-haired, black-shawled house servants, bundling them through thedoor and ranging them along the wall.
Father O'Malley's face was puckered; he said, hesitatingly: "My dearmadam, this isn't regular; you are not Catholics. How can I bless you?"
"You can marry us legally, just the same, can't you?" Alaire wasbreathing rapidly, and some part of her eagerness began to thrill herhearers.
"Oh yes, but--"
"Then marry us. And make haste, please! Please!"
Law nodded. He could not speak, for his mouth was dry. A voice withinhim shouted a warning, but he would not listen. His heart was beatingviolently; his temples were pounding; all the blood of his body seemedcentered in his head.
Before the eyes of the four wondering women Father O'Malley marriedthem. It seemed to Alaire that he would never reach the end, although,in fact, he stumbled through the ceremony swiftly. Alaire clipped hislast words short by crying:
"Tell these people so that they'll understand what it all means. Tellthem to remember they have seen a marriage by the Church."
The priest did as he was directed, and his audience signified theirunderstanding. Then Dolores led them out.
