The Delafield Affair

by Florence Finch Kelly

  CHAPTER XVII

  SENTENCE OF DEATH

  As the Spring days passed, in unbroken procession of rosy dawns,cloudless and glowing noons, and gorgeous sunsets, Louise Dent'sresentment against Curtis Conrad grew keen and bitter. She saw the linesof worry appearing in Bancroft's face, and surprised now and then in hiseyes an anxious abstraction; and in her heart she stormed against theman she supposed to be the sole cause of it all. Dreading his next visitlest she might betray her feeling, she longed to drive him from thehouse, when he should come, with burning, shaming words. But Bancroft,who knew as much of his intention as she did, was on terms of cordialfriendship with him, and she must take her cue from her friend and host.

  Toward Bancroft himself her heart grew more tenderly solicitous as herwomanly instincts divined his feeling toward her. A thousand unconscioustouches of tone and manner had already revealed his love, and shesurmised that he would not speak because of the imminence of this soredanger. She longed to give him her open sympathy, to counsel with him,to lock hands with him so that they might face the trouble together. Yetshe was stopped from word or action by the necessity of seeming to knownothing. The fact of Bancroft's identity had been disclosed to her byhis wife, her dear and intimate friend, who, at point of death, had toldher, under solemn promise of secrecy, the whole story, that she mightthe better shield Lucy should disclosure ever threaten. Now, her heartmelting with pity, love, and sympathy for her friend, and burning withangry resentment against his foe, she must perforce sit in apparentignorance of it all, be calm and cheerful toward Bancroft, and smilepleased welcome upon Conrad. That hidden volcano in her breast, whosepossibility Lucy and Curtis had half seriously discussed, had become areality, and the concealment of it demanded all her self-control.

  The only relief she dared give herself was occasional disapproval of theyoung cattleman in her talks with Lucy. Louise was surprised and puzzledby the varying moods in which the girl received these criticisms.Sometimes she kept silence or quickly changed the subject. Rarely shetossed her head and joined in the condemnation with an angry sparkle ofthe eye. Or, again, with flushing cheek, she defended him from MissDent's aspersions. Louise decided, with a fond smile, that her vagariesof mood were due to pique at the lack of more constant attentions fromConrad. For the young woman, to her father's and Miss Dent's lovingamusement, was proving herself adept in the art of queening it over acourt of masculine admirers. What with walks over the _mesa_, rides andpicnics up the canyon, music of evenings, and Sunday afternoon calls,Lucy was leading a gay life, and Louise, as her chaperon, a busy one.Being a normal, buoyant-hearted girl, Lucy enjoyed the gayety and theattention and admiration showered upon her in such copious measure fortheir own sake, and she was glad of them also because, together with herhousehold cares, they kept her too well occupied for sad thoughts.

  So the days passed until mid-June was at hand and the time come for thetrial of Jose Maria Melgares. Curtis Conrad was in Golden as one of theprincipal witnesses for the prosecution--his first visit to the townsince the Spring round-up. Lucy, glancing frequently down the street,was trying to interest herself in Miss Dent's conversation as they sattogether on the veranda. They spoke of the trial, and Lucy said she hadseen Mr. Conrad on his way to the court-house when she went down town tomarket.

  "I've been disappointed in Mr. Conrad," said Louise; "I don't understandhow he can talk so recklessly about people needing to be killed. To meit is very repellent. You know how he speaks about Mr. Baxter."

  Lucy's head went up. "But Mr. Baxter is a very bad man!" she exclaimed."He has been responsible for a great deal of suffering. Just think ofMelgares and his poor wife! But for Mr. Baxter they might still beliving happily on their little ranch. And he's done many other thingsjust as wicked and unjust. Oh, he's a very bad man, and I can't blameMr. Conrad for feeling that way about him." She broke off, flushing toher brows, then went on more quietly: "But I don't think, Dearie, thatMr. Conrad means half he says when he talks that way; it's just his wayof feeling how brave he is."

  "If he does not mean it, he should not speak so recklessly of seriousmatters," Louise responded with decision. "He must have a cruel nature,or he would not harbor such ideas."

  Lucy leaned forward, her face aglow. "Indeed, no, Dearie! Mr. Conradisn't cruel; he's really very tender-hearted--just think of the way hecarried that wounded bird all the way to Golden to have its leg fixed.And one day when we were walking on the _mesa_, he was so distressedbecause he accidentally stepped on a little horned toad. It's unjust tocall him cruel, Dearie!"

  Her glance darted down the street again, and she saw Curtis nearing hergate. His quick, energetic stride and eager face were like a trumpetcall to her youth and her womanhood. Forgetting all but the fact of hispresence, she felt her heart leap to meet him with joyful welcome. Butinstantly came remembrance and reaction, and she greeted him withunusual gravity of manner.

  Conrad wanted them at the ranch for the Fourth of July. "We are to havea big barbecue and _baile_," he said. "Both the Castletons are comingthis year to look things over, and I wrote Ned that if Mrs. Ned wascoming with him perhaps it would amuse her if we did something of thesort. The idea seemed to just strike his gait, and he wrote back at onceto go ahead and whoop it up for all I'm worth. Mrs. Ned and Mrs. Turnerare both coming, and I'm asking a lot of people from all over theTerritory. I want you two ladies and Mr. Bancroft to be sure to come outthe day before the Fourth and stay at least until the day after, and asmuch longer as you find convenient. My brother Homer is coming on nextweek for the rest of the Summer, and he'll be there too."

  Lucy was delighted, clapped her hands, and declared it would be greatfun--of course they would go. Repugnant to the idea but knowing thatonly one course was seemly, Miss Dent gave smiling acquiescence. As theytalked, Curtis telling them of the great wealth of the Castletonbrothers, the rivalry of the two ladies, the dash and beauty and vogueof Mrs. Turner, and the Spanish ancestry of Mrs. Ned, Lucy's eyescontinually sought his face. Her spirits began to rise, and soon theywere gayly tilting at each other after their usual custom, she allsmiles and dimples and animation, and he beaming with admiration. Theywent to the conservatory to see the tanager and presently brought itback with them, telling Miss Dent that they were going to set it free.Lucy stood beside him as they watched it soar away through the sunlight,a flash of silvery pink flame, and it seemed to her that their mutualinterest in the little creature had made a bond between them and givenher an understanding of his character deeper and truer than any one elsecould have.

  Conrad went down the hill, whistling softly a merry little tune, histhoughts dwelling tenderly upon Lucy. He wished her to enjoy thebarbecue and _baile_ even more than she expected--it was to be her firstexperience of that sort--and he began to plan little details that mightadd to her pleasure. So absorbed was he and so pleasant his thoughtsthat for a time he quite forgot the Delafield affair. But it came tomind again when Bancroft asked him, as they talked together at the doorof the bank, if he had had any more trouble with Jose Gonzalez.

  "Oh, no; Jose's all right. He's the best cowboy I've got and as docileas a yearling. He's agreed to stay right on at the ranch with me. I'mglad to have such a smart, competent fellow to leave under Peters, forafter the Fourth I expect to be away a good deal. I'll have some timefor myself then and I'm going into this hunt after Delafield for all I'mworth; I don't think it will take me long to run him down now."

  Bancroft hesitated a moment, then, laying his hand on Conrad's arm hespoke earnestly: "For God's sake, Curt, give up this fool notion ofyours. If you don't, you'll never get through alive. No sane man isgoing to let you get the drop on him, as you seem to think you can. He'sundoubtedly watching you right along, ready to put an end to thebusiness as soon as he thinks you're really dangerous. Let him pay youif he will; but stop this foolishness."

  Conrad laughed heartily and slapped Bancroft's shoulder. "Why, Aleck,"said he, "the most satisfaction I've ever had comes out of knowing thatI'm so hot on his tracks that I'
ve got him buffaloed. Give it up? Notmuch! I'm going to lope down that trail at a two-minute gait, and SumnerL. Delafield is mighty soon going to wish he'd never been born."

  Bancroft turned half away, with a tightening of his lips under hisbrown moustache. "Very well. I'll not trouble you with any more adviceon the subject. But when you meet with disaster, as you undoubtedlywill, you must remember that you've got nobody but yourself to blame.How's the trial going?" he asked abruptly.

  "Pretty fast; the case will go to the jury to-morrow. It won't take themmore than ten minutes to reach a verdict. You ought to come in and hearJudge Banks's charge, Aleck. Dan tells me it's sure to be interesting.He says you never can tell whether Banks will deliver an original poemor make up his charge out of quotations from Shakespeare."

  As the banker went up the hill to his home he remembered that he hadheard Rutherford Jenkins was in town. To-morrow he must see the man andtry again to induce him to consider the dangers of an indictment forconspiracy. At any rate, he would hold that affidavit of Melgares' uphis sleeve, and the time might come when it would be efficacious, evenshould Jenkins still scoff at it now. Conrad--he had given Conradanother warning, as plain as day, and if the man would rush onrecklessly he must take the consequences. Jose Gonzalez was still atSocorro Springs--an accident could happen--and there was no time tolose!

  Lucy saw her father coming when he was a block away and, instead ofrunning to the gate to meet him, pretended not to have noticed him, andhastened into the house. Louise Dent remained on the veranda, pushingforward a lounging chair for him as he mounted the steps. She saw thathe looked paler and more haggard than usual, and she longed to put herarms about him, as a mother might around a suffering child, and charmaway his trouble and wretchedness. In her maiden life the innatemother-longing had found little appeasement; and so, when this youthfullove came into her enriched and mellowed heart of middle life, itgathered into itself the repressed yearning of her nature, and thematernal side of it was strong and fierce. She neither condoned norbelittled the sins of the man she loved. For his wrongdoing and thesuffering he had caused she felt sorrow, pity, remorse--remorse almostas keen as if she herself had been the guilty one. But her love enfoldedhim in spite of his sins, and even included them. For she told herselfthat if he had not been guilty she might never have known him, theirpaths might never have crossed.

  In gentle, unobtrusive ways she ministered to his comfort; then, sittingbeside him, her calm brow and steady eyes giving no sign of the tumultin her heart, she talked with sympathy and interest, gradually leadinghis thoughts away from the present into happy plans for the future. Withkeen satisfaction she saw the weary, desperate look fade from his faceand eyes, giving place to one of comfort and content, and the assurancethat she had made him forget his troubles, even for a little while,filled her heart with pleasure.

  Lucy, sitting in her room, heard the murmur of their voices through heropen windows. Her high spirits of the hour before were gone, and she satdejected, her face mournful, and her head hanging like a flower brokenon its stem. Presently she slipped down to the conservatory, took thepot of cactus Conrad had given her, ran across the back-yard, and threwit over the fence. Then she joined her father and Louise, seatingherself on the arm of his chair and throwing her arm around his neck asshe asked with loving concern about his welfare, told him he had notbeen looking well of late, and that he was working too hard and oughtto have a rest. But that evening, after dinner, she rushed across theyard and out of the gate, and gathered up the cactus pot in her arms asif it were some small animal she had hurt. She returned it to its placein the conservatory, pressing her hands around it until its spinesbrought little drops of blood.

  "I can't help it!" she exclaimed in a vehement whisper. "I have to likehim, and I shan't try any more not to! He wouldn't hurt daddy, I know hewouldn't--because--because he wouldn't--and because--he loves me!" Atiny smile curved her lips as she touched the plant caressingly andpresently her whisper went on: "If I could only tell daddy that heneedn't be afraid or worried! Oh, I wish I could! But he mustn't guess Iknow." Her lips ceased moving and she stared unseeingly at the cactus,as her thought slowly took shape: "It's worrying daddy awfully, and Imustn't let it go on any longer. I'll tell Mr. Conrad who Delafieldis and he'll stop right then--I know he will. He'll despise usafterward--oh, he won't love me after that!--but--poor daddy! he won'tbe worried any more."

  Bancroft and Miss Dent were alike convinced that his pursuer would beruthless in the fulfilment of revenge. Arguing from their knowledge ofmen, their experience of the world, and their observation of hischaracter, each had come to the fixed conclusion that no softening ofheart or staying of hand could be expected from him when he knew thetruth. Lucy, having neither knowledge of men nor experience of the worldto guide her, had not reasoned about the matter at all. She had jumpedat once to her conclusion, as soon as she knew her father's identity,that he had nothing to fear from Curtis. Her decision was partly due toher own temperament, which she instinctively felt to be somewhat akinto Conrad's, and partly to her knowledge of a side of his characterof which Louise knew little and her father still less. It was furtherstrengthened by her intuition that he loved her--something the young manhimself had not yet realized. Other than this belief in his love shecould have offered no reason for her assurance that he would give overhis purpose as soon as he learned to whose door his quest was leadinghim. But neither her father nor Louise, had it been possible for them toargue with her, could have shaken her conviction.

  The next day Bancroft, Conrad, and Pendleton went together to thecourt-house to see the closing scenes of the Melgares trial. The leadingmen of the town were there, as well as the usual hangers-on of acourt-room, and a few women, both Mexican and American, sat in a littlerailed space at one side. Every seat was filled, and a standing line oflate comers fringed the walls. Across the room Bancroft saw RutherfordJenkins. The crowd was disappointed by the judge's charge to the jury,which was brief, simple, and confined to bare statements of law andfact. So it sat still and waited after the jury had filed out, feelingsure that the deliberation would not be long, and that somethinginteresting might be expected afterward from the judge; for he had thereputation of doing and saying whimsical things. He was a bookish man,who studied his law volumes much, but for relaxation turned often toromance and poetry. He had a knack for making jingles himself, and hispronouncements from the bench, whether he was charging a jury, callingfor order, sentencing a prisoner, or making peace between warringattorneys, were as likely as not to be in rhyme of his own improvisationor in aptly applied quotations from the words of the mighty.

  The jury came back presently with a verdict of murder in the firstdegree. Judge Banks asked the prisoner if he knew of any reason why thecourt should not sustain the finding of the jury. Melgares said nothing,and Dellmey Baxter, his counsel, who had made the best fight for theMexican that he could, shook his head; he had given his services, andcared to take no further trouble. All that now stood between theprisoner and the gallows was a little space of time. The judge lookedout of the window into the trembling green depths of the cottonwoodsbeside the court-house, and for a moment there was silence in the room.He was a slight man, with dreamy blue eyes, and a square, fine face,framed by side-whiskers, short and thin. It was quite like him to betrying to realize, in that brief moment, just how it would seem to havethe gallows looming in one's path so short a way ahead.

  He ordered the prisoner to stand. Sheriff Tillinghurst, his usual smileabsent from his kindly face, helped Melgares to his feet. The Mexican'swife, who had been seated beside him, drooped forward, her breast shakenwith sobs and her lips moving in whispers of prayer.

  "Jose Maria Melgares, you have heard the finding of the jury," began thejudge, and waited for the sonorous voice of the court interpreter tosend the words rolling in musical Spanish over the room, "and it is nownecessary for me to pronounce upon you the sentence of this court. Therains will soon be here, Jose Maria Melgares, the grass will springforth, the
flowers bloom, and all the plains and hillsides grow greenand luxuriant. But you will not be here to see and enjoy their beauty,Jose Maria Melgares. The rains of Summer, the golden days of October,the storms of Winter, will all alike pass unknown and unheeded over yourhead. Spring will come again with its new life, and the lambs willfrolic beside their mothers and the little calves bleat in the valleys.But your eyes will not see the sights, nor your ears hear the sounds,Jose Maria Melgares. It will not matter to you that the skies of NewMexico bend blue and beautiful above your head. The stars will marchacross the midnight heavens, proclaiming that God is good, and that Heholds the universe in the hollow of His hand. Day after day the sun willrise in his fiery might and blazon forth upon earth and sky the goodnessand the glory of the Almighty. The moon will swim across the violetskies of night, wax from slender crescent to fair white disk, and waneagain. But to you, Jose Maria Melgares, it will all be as nothing. Foryou, life is a tale that has been told; there is nothing more for younow, Jose Maria Melgares, save the moral, and even that is no longer ofinterest to you. For you have been guilty of a heinous crime, Jose MariaMelgares; you have taken the life of your fellow-man, and therefore yourlife is forfeit. It is the sentence of this court, Jose Maria Melgares,that you be hanged by the neck until dead. And may God have mercy uponyour soul!"

  The last melodious syllables of the interpreter's voice resoundedthrough the room, and died in sudden silence. Then the moment's hush wasbroken by a shriek as Senora Melgares sprang to her feet, stretching herarms out wildly to the judge.

  "No, no, Senor Judge! It is not right that my husband should die," shecried out in Spanish. "He was made to steal the mare, and the man whohired him to do it and brought all this trouble upon us--he is the onewho should die! There he sits over there! Senor Jenkins, Don RutherfordJenkins! He is the one who made my husband steal the mare, who gave himmoney to do it, because he had a grudge against Senor Conrad; and he isthe one--"

  Sheriff Tillinghurst, his hand on her shoulder, was urging her to sitdown, her husband was ordering her to stop, and there was a suddenhubbub all over the room. The judge rapped on his desk and threatened tohave the room cleared. Jenkins sat quite still, glaring wrathfully atBancroft. Conrad clenched his fist, his blue eyes blazing as he explodedan oath into Pendleton's ear; it was his first intimation that the manfrom Las Vegas had been behind the attempted theft of his mare.

  Jenkins was waiting for Bancroft at the door of the bank. "I want to seeyou at once, in private," he said curtly, and without a word the bankerled the way to his office. "A nice trick you played me," Jenkins began,his voice hot and sneering. "I thought of going straight to Conrad; andthat's what I ought to have done, to serve you right."

  "Well, why didn't you?" Bancroft asked, impassively.

  Jenkins took quick alarm. Had the young ranchman, with his impetuousloyalty, told his friend what had happened in the Albuquerque hotel?But perhaps Bancroft was only bluffing, in which case he himself couldbluff as well as another. "I didn't because I thought it would be thesquare thing to see you first, and find out if you have any explanationto offer of that woman's performance. Unless you can satisfy me you hadnothing to do with it, I shall see Conrad and tell him everything hedoesn't know about you before I leave town to-night."

  Bancroft reflected. If Jenkins approached Curtis in that young man'spresent mood there was ample likelihood that the blackmailer would nevertrouble him again. Yet there was the chance that he might say in time tosave himself the word that would stay Conrad's hand. He dared not takethe chance.

  "I advise you," he said slowly, "if you value a whole skin, not to gonear Curt Conrad while he is in the state of mind in which I just lefthim. As for Senora Melgares, are you crazy enough to suppose I hadanything to do with that?"

  "It's evident, Bancroft, that you put her up to something you wereafraid to do yourself. You wanted to put me in a hole, and you got herto do it for you."

  Bancroft made a gesture of annoyance. "Oh, well, if you've got no more_sabe_ than that--" he began, but went on quietly, "I give you my wordof honor--"

  "The word of honor of Sumner L. Delafield!" Jenkins sneered.

  The banker's eyes flashed as he made an impulsive start, but he went onwith quiet emphasis: "I give you my word of honor that I knew no morethan you what the Melgares woman was going to say when she jumped up.You ought to see yourself that it would have been to my advantage tokeep this knowledge entirely in my own hands."

  "Nevertheless," Jenkins replied sullenly, "you could have prevented heroutbreak if you'd wanted to; and if there are any legal proceedingsstarted against me because of what she said I expect you and Dell Baxterto stop them at once. And I want you to give me, before I leave thisroom, a sum of money or a check equal to what I receive on the first ofevery month. And understand that this has no connection with thatpayment, which will come on the first of next month, as agreed. It'slittle enough, after this outrage."

  Bancroft glared at his companion for a moment; Jenkins sat up with adefiant look and glared back. The banker turned to his desk and wrotethe check without a word. "And the woman's charge?" the other askedthreateningly, as he took it.

  "If any action is begun I'll do my best to stop it."

  Well satisfied with the result, Jenkins hastened down the street,intending to cross over to his hotel at the next bridge and wait in theprivacy of his room until train time. As he approached the court-housecorner Sheriff Tillinghurst, Little Jack Wilder, Pendleton, and Conradcame out of the building. Curtis saw the hurrying figure, and the lightof battle leaped into his eyes. He rushed past the others, and beforeJenkins had time to draw his revolver was upon him and had pinioned hisarms.

  Pendleton ran forward, shouting, "Give it to him, Curt! He deserves it!"

  "Jack," smiled the sheriff, "I reckon this is goin' to be a sure goodscrap, but we don't need to see it. We'd better hike." And theydisappeared up the side street.

  Jenkins was vainly struggling to reach his hip pocket. Conrad got himdown, set one knee on his chest, plucked forth the gun, and threw it toPendleton. "Now, you damned skunk," he exclaimed, "you're going to getevery lick that's coming to you! I won't dirty powder by using my gun onyou, but I'm sure going to set the standard for lickings in this town."

  And to this day, in the city of Golden, the pummelling that RutherfordJenkins forthwith received is spoken of as the utmost measure ofpunishment that a man may take and live. At the end Conrad took the limpbody under one arm and carried it to the physician's office. "Here,Doc," he said, "is some work for you. Send the bill to me."