Steve Yeager
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CHAPTER XXVI
AT SUNSET
Steve, in solitary confinement, with only his throbbing leg for company,was under no illusions as to what his punishment would be. Pasquale hadbeen killed by an American who had been seen talking with Yeager fiveminutes before he had shot the general. The charge against him wouldprobably be conspiracy, but it did not much matter what the excuse was.His life would be snuffed out certainly.
There were several reasons why Culvera should sacrifice him and not onewhy he should be spared. Ramon had a personal grudge against him, andthe new commander was not a man to forget to pay debts of this kind.Moreover, the easiest way to still any whispered doubts of his ownloyalty to Pasquale was to show sharp severity in punishing thosecharged with being implicated in his death.
Yeager accepted it as settled that he was doomed.
But what about his friends? What of Threewit and Farrar? And, above all,what of Ruth? Would Culvera think it necessary to extend his vengeanceto them? Or would prudence stay his hand after he had executed the chiefoffender?
Culvera was a good politician. The chances were that he would not riskstirring up a hornet's nest by shooting a man as well known in theUnited States as Threewit. Since Farrar was in the same case, he wouldprobably stand or fall by the Lunar director. As for Ruth--her _life_would be safe enough. There was no doubt of that. But--what of herfuture?
Ramon was a known libertine. No scruples would restrain him if hethought the game was a safe quarry. And Steve knew with a sinking heartthat he could offer to any official inquiry of the United StatesGovernment a plausible story of an abandoned woman who had come to campto sell her charms to the highest bidder. It would be easy to show thatshe had ridden down with a man suspected of being a rustler and known tobe a bad character, that she had jilted him for Pasquale who was alreadymarried and a good deal more than twice her age, and that after thedeath of Gabriel she had turned at once to his successor. To twist thefacts in support of such an interpretation of her conduct would requireonly a little distortion here and there. The truth, twisted, makes themost damnable lies.
Without any heroics Holcomb had given his life to save her because shewas an American woman. Yeager counted himself a dead man in the samecause. What wrung his heart now, and set him limping up and down hiscell regardless of the pain from his wounded leg, was the fear that theprice had been paid in vain. Little Ruth! Little Ruth! His heart wentout to her in an agony of despair.
While he clung rigid to the window bars of his prison the rusty lock inthe door creaked. The sergeant with the cruel little eyes entered withthree men.
"Ho, ho! The general wants the Gringo to cut out his heart and liver.Come! Let us not keep him waiting. He is sharpening the knife and it maylose the edge."
A horse was waiting outside and the prisoner was assisted to the saddle.One man led the horse by the bridle and on either side of Yeager rode asecond and a third. All of them were armed. The new general was takingno chances of an escape.
At sight of the American the young Mexican at the head of the long tablewhere Pasquale had held his councils showed a flash of fine teeth in aglittering smile.
"Welcome, Senor Yeager. How is the wounded leg?"
Steve nodded casually. "It's talking to me, general, but I reckon it'sgood enough to do all the walking I'll ask of it," he answered quietly.
Culvera turned with a laugh to Ochampa. "He is what the Gringoes callgame. Is it not so, major?"
Ochampa, his wounded leg on a chair, grunted.
"Turn about is fair play. How is _your_ leg, major?" asked Steve.
The major glared at him. "Is it that I must put up with the insolence ofthis scoundrel, general?" he demanded.
"Not for long," replied Culvera suavely. "Pedro Cabenza, or Yeager, orwhatever you call yourself, you have been tried for rebellion,insubordination, and conspiracy to kill General Pasquale. You have beensentenced to be shot at sunset. The order of the military court will becarried out as decreed."
The cowpuncher took it without the twitching of a muscle in the brownface. He knew there was no use of an appeal for mercy and he made none.
"So I've been tried and convicted without even being present. Finebusiness. I reckon you've got an explanation handy when Uncle Sam comesasking whyfor you murdered an American citizen."
Culvera lifted in mock surprise his eyebrows. "An American citizen!Surely not. I execute Pedro Cabenza, a peon, enlisted in the Army ofthe North, because he plotted with the foes of the Republic and helpedprisoners escape, and because he conspired to assassinate our gloriouschief, General Pasquale." Ramon put his forearm on the table and leanedforward with an ironic smile. "But your point is well made, Pedro. Liesspread on the wings of the wind. I shall forestall any slanderousuntruths by having a photograph taken of you before the execution, andanother of your body afterward. I thank you for the suggestion."
Though it told against him the American knew this was a bull's-eye hit.A photograph of him in his rags, with his serape and his ventilatedsombrero, face as brown as a berry, would be sufficient proof toexonerate Culvera of the charge of having shot an American. Steve hadmade up too well for the part. At worst Culvera could plead aregrettable mistake.
"You make out a good case against Pedro Cabenza, general," admitted thecondemned man evenly. "Good enough. We'll put him in the discard. Isuppose you won't deny that Threewit and Farrar and Miss Seymour areAmericans."
With a confidential grin Ramon nodded. "You've put your finger on thepulse of my difficulty. You see, I talk to you frankly because I havethe best of reasons for knowing you will never betray me. No doubt yourecall your proverb about dead men telling tales. Just so. Well, I don'tknow what the devil to do with your friends Farrar and Threewit. I havenothing against them, but if I send them home they will talk. Would itbe best, do you think, to arrange an accident for them while on the wayback to Arizona?"
"Not at all. I'll make a written confession, and they can sign it aswitnesses, that I plotted against Pasquale and was implicated in hismurder. That will let you out nicely, general. Then you can send themhome, and the young lady in their care. So you will even scores with mequite safely to yourself."
The Mexican commander looked steadily out of the window at a dogscratching himself in the street. "I don't recall mentioning the younglady. Her future is arranged."
The temples of the cowpuncher throbbed. He pretended to misunderstandthe meaning of the other man. "Of course. I understand that you can donothing else but send her home. The one thing that would bring our armyacross the line on the jump would be for you to hurt a hair of thisgirl's head. You could kill a dozen men and get away with it quickerthan you could to insult one little girl. But, of course, you knowthat."
The fingers of Culvera drummed absently on the table. "I think thesenorita and I will be able to adjust the matter without any help fromyou. If you have any last messages for her I'll be glad to carry them,since I expect to see her this evening."
Steve had disdained to beg for himself, but now he begged for the girlhe loved.
"You're a man, Ramon Culvera. Nobody ever claimed there is any yellow inyou. Your father was a gentleman and so is his son. You fight with menand not with timid girls. You wouldn't do this girl dirt because she isalone and has no friends near. Think of your own sisters, man."
Ochampa moved restlessly in his chair. "We had better send the girlhome. She will bring us trouble else."
His superior officer flashed a quick look at him. "That is a bridge weshall cross when we come to it. Meanwhile I say adios, Senor Yeager.Shall I send you the padre?"
"Thanks, no! But remember this. You stake your whole future on thetreatment you give Miss Seymour. If you don't play fair with her, youlose."
Ramon clapped his hands three times. A soldier entered the room.
"Take the Gringo back to his prison," ordered Culvera.
"The order stands, general? At sunset?" asked the man.
"It stands," assented Ramon; and turned to Ochampa
: "Have you agreed ona price for that bunch of cattle with the Flying D rustlers, major?"