CHAPTER XIX
THE TEXAN
Steve tapped gently on the window pane with the ball of his middlefinger. Instantly the sobbing was interrupted. The black head of hairlifted from the pillow to listen the better. He could guess howfearfully the heart of the girl was beating.
Again he tapped on the glass. With a lithe twist of her body the girlsat up on the bed. She waited tensely for a repetition of the sound, notquite sure from where it had come.
Her questing eyes found at last the source of it, a warning forefingerclose to the pane that seemed to urge for silence. Rising, she movedslowly to the window, uneasy, doubtful, yet with hope beginning to stirat her heart. She formed a cup for her eyes with her palms so as to holdback the light while she peered through the glass into the darknesswithout.
Over to the left she made out the contour of a face, a brown Mexicanface with quick, eager eyes that spoke comfort to her. Her first thoughtwas that it belonged to a friend. Hard on the heels of that she gave alittle cry of joy and began with trembling fingers to raise the window.
"Steve!" she cried, laughing and crying together.
And as soon as she had adjusted the window she caught his hand betweenboth of hers and pressed it hard. Steve was here. He would save her ashe had before. She was all right now.
"Ruth! Little Ruth!" he cried softly, in a whisper.
"Did you hear? Do you know?" she asked.
"Only that he brought you here, the hellhound, and that Pasquale--"
He stopped, his sentence unfinished. There was no need to alarm herabout that old philanderer. Time enough for that if she scratched thesurface and found the savage beneath.
"--Won't let me go home," she finished for him.
"But what are you doing here? How did Harrison trap you?"
"I had been strolling with Daisy Ellington after supper. It was notlate--hardly dark yet. She stopped at the hotel to talk with MissWinters and I started to walk home alone. I took the short cut acrossthe empty block just below Brinker's. He was waiting among thecottonwoods there--he and two Mexicans. As soon as he stepped into thelight I was afraid."
"Why didn't you cry out?"
"I didn't like to make a scene about nothing. And after that firstmoment I had no time. He caught hold of me and put his hand across mymouth. Horses were there ready saddled. He lifted me in front of him andkept my mouth covered till we were clear of the town. It didn't matterhow much I screamed when we had reached the desert."
"I didn't think even Harrison had the nerve to kidnap an Arizona girland bring her across the line. If he had happened to meet a bunch ofcowpunchers--"
"He didn't start after me. It was you he wanted. But he found out youweren't in town and took me instead. All the way down he talked aboutyou--boasted how he would marry me in spite of you and how he would takeyou and have Pasquale flay you alive."
Yeager lifted a warning finger. "Remember you have a friend here.Good-night."
He lowered himself quickly, slid down the porch post, and disappearedinto the darkness almost instantly.
Ruth heard voices. One gave commands, the others answered mildly with"Si, Excellency." Dim figures moved about below, one heavy, bulky,dominating. He gestured, snapped out curt directions, and presentlyvanished. Two guards were left. They paced up and down beneath herwindow. She understood that Pasquale was providing against any chance ofescape. Half an hour ago she would have shuddered. Now she could evensmile faintly at his precautions. Steve would evade them when the righttime came.
Her confidence in him, since it looked only to the results, was greaterthan that he felt in his own power. The range-rider saw the difficultiesbefore him. He was alone in a camp of wild, ignorant natives who movedat the nod of Pasquale. When he let himself think of Ruth as a prisonerat the mercy of that savage old outlaw's whim, the heart of Steve failedhim. What could one man do against so many?
He felt that she was perfectly safe for the present, but Yeager found itimpossible to sleep in the stable. Taking his blankets with him, heslipped noiselessly out to the cottonwood clump back of Pasquale'sheadquarters. Here, at least, he could see the light in her window andbe sure that all was well with her.
As he moved noiselessly from one tree to another which gave a betterview of the window, Steve stumbled against the prostrate body of a man.
Some one ripped out a sullen oath and a grip of steel caught at theankle of the cowpuncher.
Taken by surprise, Yeager was dragged to the ground.
"What are you doing here?" demanded a voice Steve recognized instantlyas belonging to Harrison.
The prisoner made no resistance. He ran into a patter of frightened,apologetic Spanish.
"What's your name?"
"Pedro Cabenza, senor," replied the owner of that name. "It is so hot inthe stable. So I bring my blankets here and sleep."
"Hmp!" Harrison took time for reflection. "Know where I put up?"
"Si, senor."
The prizefighter gave him a dollar. "Stay here. Keep an eye on thatlighted window upstairs. If anything happens--if you hear a noise--if awoman screams, come and knock me up right away. Understand?"
The docile Cabenza repeated his instructions like a parrot.
"Good enough," Harrison nodded. "I'll give you another dollar when youcome. But don't wake me for nothing."
"No, senor."
"And you'd better keep your mouth shut unless you want your head beatoff," advised the white man as he left.
The one who had given his name as Cabenza grinned to himself. He wasnow Harrison's hired watcher. Both of them were in league to frustrateany deviltry on the part of Pasquale. He wondered what the prizefighterwould give to know that he had his enemy so wholly in his power, that hehad only to lay hands on him and cry out to doom him to a painful and aviolent death.
Yeager dozed and wakened and dozed again. Always when he looked thelight was still burning. Toward morning he saw the figure of Ruth in thewindow. When she turned away the light went out. He judged she had puther anxieties from her and given herself to sleep at last. But not untilthe camp began to stir with the renewal of life for another day did heleave his post and return to the stable.
During the morning he slept under a cottonwood and made up arrears ofrest lost while on guard. About noon Harrison came down the street andstopped at sight of him. The man was livid with anger. Yeager couldguess the reason. He had spent a stormy ten minutes with old Pasqualedemanding his rights and had issued from the encounter without profit.From the place where Steve was sitting he had heard the high, excitedvoices. It had occurred to him that the protest of Harrison had goneabout as far as it could be safely carried, for Gabriel was both aruthless and a hot-tempered despot.
Harrison sat down sullenly without speaking and stared straight in frontof him. He was boiling with impotent fury. Pasquale had the whip handand meant to carry things his own way. Of that he no longer had anydoubt. In bringing Ruth to Noche Buena he had made a great mistake.
"Do you want to make some money, you--what's your name?" he presentlyrasped out.
Yeager answered with the universal formula of the land. "Si, senor. Andmy name is Cabenza--Pedro Cabenza."
The prizefighter glanced warily around, then lowered his voice. "I meana lot of money--twenty dollars, maybe."
"Gold?" asked the peon, wide-eyed.
"Gold. How far would you go to earn that much?"
"A long way, senor."
Harrison caught him by the wrist with a grip that drove the blood back."Listen, Cabenza. _Would you go as far as the camp of Garcia Farrugia?_"The close-gripped, salient jaw was thrust forward. Black eyes blazedfrom a set, snarling face.
So, after all, the man was trafficking with the Federal governor all thetime just as he was with the Constitutionalists. Yeager had once ortwice suspected as much.
"To the camp of Governor Farrugia," gasped Cabenza. "But--what for,senor?"
"To carry him a letter. Never mind what for. You will get your pay. Isit not enough?"
"And--Pasquale?"
"Need never know. You can slip away this afternoon and be back byto-morrow night."
Cabenza shook his head regretfully. "No. I am one of the horsewranglers. My boss would miss me if I was not here. I cannot go."
The other man swore. At the same time he recognized the argument aseffective. He must find a messenger who could absent himself withoutstirring up questions.
"Then keep your mouth clamped," ordered Harrison. "I may be able to useyou here. Anyhow, I want you to be ready to help if I need you."
He slipped a dollar into the brown palm of the peon and left him.
Steve looked after him with narrowed eyes. "Mr. Harrison is liable tobump into trouble if he don't look out. He's gone crazy with the heat,looks like. First thing, he'll pick on the wrong greaser and Mr.Messenger will take the letter to Pasquale instead of Farrugia. That'sabout what'll happen."
Something else happened first, however, that distracted the attention ofMr. Yeager, alias Cabenza, from this regrettable possibility. A manrode into camp, followed by a Mexican leading a pack-horse. The firstrider was straight, tall, and wide-shouldered; also he was deep-chestedand lean-loined, forty-five or thereabout, and had "Texan" written allover his weather-beaten face and costume. At sight of him Steve gave asilent whoop of joy. A white man had come to Noche Buena, a Texan (hewas ready to swear), and he wore his big serviceable six-guns low. Also,he carried on his face and in his bearing the look of recklesscompetence that comes only from death faced in the open fearlessly andoften.
Inside of five minutes Cabenza had gathered information as follows: AdamHolcomb was a soldier of fortune who had fought all over South Americaand Mexico. During the Spanish War he had been a Rough Rider in Cuba andlater had been a volunteer officer in the Philippines. The army routinehad no attraction for him. What he liked was actual fighting. So theoutbreak of the Revolution had drawn him across the border, where he haddone much to lick the Constitutionalist troops into shape. Now he hadcome to Noche Buena to teach the artillery of the Legion how to shootstraight, after which they would all march south and take the great citywith the golden gates. Personally this Gringo was a devil, of course,but Pasquale was a prince of devils whose business it was to keep alllesser ones in order. So, in the Spanish equivalent of our Americanslang, they should worry. Thus a comrade explained the Texan and hispresence to Pedro.
Cabenza contrived to be in the way when someone was wanted to fill thewater-jug of Holcomb. Ochampa, who for the moment had charge of theartillery officer, swooped down upon the peon and put him temporarily atthe service of his guest to fetch and carry at his orders. So Pedrounpacked the belongings of the American officer and prepared what had toserve as the substitute for a bath. He was so adept at this that thecaptain privately decided to requisition him for his servant.
Having finished this and laid out towels, Cabenza brushed the boots ofthe captain outside while that gentleman splashed within the cabin. Hechose the time while he was arranging the shaving-outfit on the table toconvey a piece of information to Holcomb.
"What's that? An American woman--held captive at his house by Pasquale,"repeated the soldier of fortune, astonished.
"A girl, not a woman. About eighteen, maybe," supplemented Cabenza, inMexican, of course.
"A woman from the street, I reckon. And if you look into it you'll findshe's here of her own free will."
Steve was now stropping a razor. His back was toward the officer, butwithout turning he could see him by looking in the glass.
"You've got the wrong steer, captain. She's as straight a girl as everlived," answered Yeager in perfectly good English.
Holcomb sat up straight. "Turn round, my man," he ordered crisply.
The range-rider did as he was told. The light, blue-gray eyes of theofficer bored into his.
"You're no Mexican," charged the Texan.
"No. Arizona is where I hang up my hat."
"What are you, then? A spy?"
"I reckon, maybeso." Steve admitted the thrust lightly. "Got time tohear all about it, captain?"
"Go ahead."
The range-rider told it, the whole story, so far as it could be relatedby him. Such details as his modesty omitted Holcomb's imagination waseasily able to supply.
The Texan paced up and down the room with the long, light, militarystride.
"And you say Pasquale has been with her all day--that he ate lunch withher and is riding with her now?"
"Yes. Just watch his eyes when he looks at her if you're in doubt aboutthe old villain. There's a tiger look in them, and something else that'sworse." Yeager chanced to glance out of the window. "Here they come nowback from their ride. Why not meet them as they alight?"
The captain reached for his hat and led the way down the street. Cabenzafollowed him, a step or two in the rear. They reached headquarters justas Pasquale lifted Ruth from the saddle. He held her for a moment in hisstrong arms and grinned down at her frightened, fascinated eyes.
"Adios, chatita!" he murmured, his little eyes dancing with triumph.
She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs.
Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harshagain.
"Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely,offering a gauntleted hand.
They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder ofthe Texan.
"Dios, I'm glad to see you, captain," the insurgent chief ran onquickly. "This riff-raff of mine can't hit a hillside. Hammer theartillery into shape and I'll say gracias."
"Yes. I see you have a countrywoman of mine visiting you," the Americansaid quietly.
"From Arizona." The Mexican laughed harshly. "We should get togethermore, your country and mine. We should bind the States and the Republictogether by closer ties. A man without a wife is but a half man.Captain, I shall marry."
It was common knowledge of the camp that in his outlaw days Pasquale hada wife and family. The sons were grown up now. The rumor ran that thewife had found a more congenial mate and was separated from Gabriel bycommon agreement. Holcomb made no reference to this free-and-easyarrangement.
"Congratulations, general. Is the lady some high-born senorita?"
"The lady you have just seen is my choice--the young woman fromArizona," answered Pasquale, flashing from under his heavy grizzledbrows a sharp, questioning look at the Texan.
"Indeed! I shall be happy to meet the lady and wish her joy," repliedHolcomb lightly.
"You shall, captain. She's a little reluctant yet, but Gabriel has a wayof overcoming that. I shall be married on Saturday."
"Ah!"
The face of the Texan had as much expression as a piece of flint.Pasquale, watching him warily, wondered what he was thinking behindthose hard, steel-gray eyes.
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