Evelyn Raymond

“ Yet, with the deep emotions of those who live close to nature, they long lingered over the parting; and even Dennis, on his new and quiet mount, appeared thoughtful and serious. He seemed either to have adopted the silence of his Indian escort or to be afflicted by the prospect of another journey into unknown places and dangers.
Carlota had her botany-box piled with her other belongings upon her burro, and though Carlos had left his own cherished hammer in the Burnham’s wagon, he had been given another of Indian shaping which, because of its flint-stone head, he thought far superior. ”

“ Feeling her own superstitious heart sing before that strange expression on Marta’s paling face, Anita indignantly retorted:
“You are a fanciful old woman. You are dotard. What? Have you an ague, you? Speak. Have you never seen the small ones ride away upon Benoni that you should stare at ghosts this hour?”
“Ghosts? Yes. I dreamed of their mother last night. She was not weeping and wringing her white hands, no? Anita Pichardo, I tell thee that evil has come to Refugio this day, and it is the strangers who have brought it.” ”

“ Pablo had recovered, but—the “Angel” had died.
The poor half-breed knew. He had seen them put her in the ground and plant flowers above her. After that, Señor Manuel had come and sent Pablo away. With money in his grasping hands, with clean clothing upon his deformed body, with all kindness and charity, yet still—away. Else, the “Simple” would have stayed on forever in the cool, white rooms. But the sad-faced Señor could not bear that. The sight of the wretched creature, whose life had cost a life infinitely more precious, was too bitter. ”

“ It’s so good to know you are getting better!” answered Carlota, who was far less rosy and gay than when, so many weeks before, she had reached Camp Burnham, where they still remained.
On the morning after her arrival, Carlota had been awakened by a cry of alarm, and, half-aroused, had seen Mrs. Burnham unsteadily leaning against the wagon-end. A second later, the cry of pain was repeated and she saw the woman fall; and from that moment until now life had seemed a terrible dream.
[297] The frail Letitia, upon whose cheerful self-sacrifice rested everybody’s comfort, had suddenly collapsed. ”

“ Their moods were their rulers and the present mood of the twins was for a long holiday at the sheep-shearing, a dozen miles away.
So, indulgent Marta brought out her finest basket—of such exquisite workmanship that it could be folded like a cloth, yet so tightly woven it would hold water—and packed it with a generous luncheon. Yet, as she finished her task, she lifted her face and sniffed suspiciously, saying:
“Ha! The wind rises faster. That is not good. There may be a ‘norther.’ Best safe at home, to-day, my children. To-morrow, mañana, there will yet be the shearing.” ”

“ But the little Carlota was no thin-blooded herb. Look again. There are many plants left unharmed and wonderfully green and fresh. Even of just such sturdy growth were the Manuel children. At will accustomed to sleeping out-of-doors, to a cold plunge each morning, to an almost wholly out-of-door life, sun-browned and of perfect health—why, they are sure to be alive and thriving somewhere. ”

“ First the little Carlota; I but whisper to her that which she should know and off she flies, screaming, louder than I dreamed she could. Then comes Anita where she had no business, listens what concerns her not, and off she races, likewise screaming. Now thou—if—what?”
“The podrida—the supper, heart’s idol!” wailed the housekeeper, and her sorely tried son burst into a laugh, which she arrested by a gesture and the words:
“‘He laughs best who laughs last,’ and that won’t be my Miguel, no. For the guests of the master to lose their supper, that is one thing, indeed; but what of Amador, no?” ”

“ Somewhat nettled, the Irishman responded:
“Faith, ’tis simple, thinks I. If Connemara, what’s a town, is a good name for a no-account creatur’ of a burro, can’t Cork, what’s a city, be right for a horse? Eh? A city’s finer nor a town an’ a horse nor a donkey, says I.”
“That seems sensible. Cork isn’t as musically, I mean musical, as Connemara, and your broncho isn’t as pretty a beast. But it’s short and easy to say when you get—angry—so often, poor Dennis!” ”

“ Then, as the rumble of an approaching train startled her, she sprang up and frantically waved her hand to Carlos and Jack, who were hunting gophers on the plain beyond the track.
“Oh! they’ll be rolled on and killed! The train—the cars—my brother!”
Mrs. Burnham rose and took the little girl’s hand.
“There, there, child! No trains can hurt you or anybody if you keep away from the rails. Try to look upon them as the pleasantest things of our days, and you’ll soon get over your fear. Now, you and Teddy play by yourselves. I see that Mr. Burnham wishes to speak with me, before this train arrives.” ”

“ She was a brave little thing, yet bravery counts for nought with a maddened redskin. They had found traces of the Apaches and knew they had struck the right trail. A conflict was inevitable. But Carlota only knew of her horse’s distress, as she cried:
“Benoni, dear! Darling Benoni! What is the matter? Can’t you, won’t you, get up? I’ll walk all the way. So will Carlos. But we can’t leave you here. You’ll have to come, too. You’ll feel better, by and by. With all these nice, nice horses to keep you company. Not alone any longer, Benoni. Lots of horses, Noni.” ”

“ The guides had taught Dennis how to draw the tethers around a bit of ground in such a manner as to keep all reptiles from intruding upon this circular space where the wanderers would safely sleep. Carlota began to watch the Irishman at his labors and, idly, to study the ground he enclosed. A last ray of sunlight stole through the branches overhead and touched to glory a bit of herbage almost at her very feet. ”

“ For poor Dennis it was a swift and bitter descent from the height of joy to the depth of woe. His grief was almost tragic, and Mr. Burnham had to look away from the face under the sombrero, it was so wholly Irish and un-Mexican.
“Me horse! Me horse! Och! But I’m undone. Sure, ’tis not I can walk all the way to them mountains beyant. Me horse! Me horse!”
“Dennis dear, you shall have the burro back. [195] Don’t you worry about walking. Though I’m sorry the broncho ran away,” said Carlota soothingly, and slipped from “Connemara” before the other could prevent. ”

“ Burnham will find his ‘lucky stone’ right here,” said Carlota, radiant at thought of a long quiet day “by themselves” with her precious brother. She knew, too, by the way he looked at her, lately, that he had something especial to say to her and only waited an opportunity to say it. So, taking a little luncheon with her and promising that they would surely come back before dark, the girl set off to find her brother, lounging on the rocks below.
“Oh! how nice it is to be alone, quite by our two selves! They are so good to us, and yet—I—Carlos, do you ever think of Refugio now?” ”

“ Believing it to be a “war cry,” the vicissitudes of the morning ended in collapse. He caught a glimpse of Carlota being lifted from her burro and led away between two squaws. It seemed to him that these forced her up a steep ladder, then threw her downward into some invisible depth. Heaped with his own burdens, the Irishman sank to the ground. ”

“ AN—I—I—TA!”
“Fortune favors the daring.” Miguel’s horse Amador stood tethered near; for, when a chance passer-by had reported meeting strangers presumably bound for Refugio, the manager had left the shearing-place and hurried homeward, to find there the most unwelcome guests who had ever sought its shelter.
“Hola! Amador! That is good, yes. This jar grows heavy, and thy feet are swifter than mine!” cried Anita, and mounted. So daringly up and away—on Miguel’s own Amador which none but he must ride! ”

“ Again standing at her doorway, old Marta awaited the children’s approach, reflecting:
“Ah! little ones! So it is always. The easy things of life fall to my Carlos, by right, is it not? While to thee, niña the speeding feet of my service, the burden and the care. But not yet, heart of mine. Look not so at Marta with thy great eyes. There shall be no care for thee, beloved, while I live. What do I hear? Bollos? Sweets? Not home till nightfall? Caramba! With whom, then, shall I play when all my tasks are done? Si, [3] I know. I will take me my guitar and I will to myself sing, why not. ”

“ Is it I, Marta Cardanza, at eighty years, would mount that fiend, Amador, and ride away with a dangling jar of hot stew, yes? [53] Such pranks suit not gray hairs, Miguel, son of my soul, no.”
“But which way, mother? How dared she?” Marta shrugged her shoulders, answering:
“Bah! Some maids are ever silly. ’Tis I think these strangers have foul-bewitched all Refugio, yes.”
Yet there was a gleam of mischief in her black eyes as she pointed to where a vaquero was leading the beautiful horse that Mr. Rupert had ridden to the rancho. “Tit for tat,” she quoted in her native tongue. ”

“ Now, this wise old dame knew that nothing would more easily lure her charges home in good season than this suggestion of songs and guitar. [17] To hear old Marta sing, in her cracked and toothless voice, was the funniest experience of their gay young lives. It was rarely she could be prevailed upon to so amuse them and Carlota hesitated and called to Carlos:
“Brother, did you hear that? This is the night when Marta sings. If we shouldn’t get back in time! But—they will be shearing for many days to come.” ”

“ He always likes to talk with strangers and makes them welcome. I forgot that when I lost my temper. I beg your pardon, Señor.”
“Don’t mention it, lad. But allow me to say that, upon my word, you’re the queerest little chap I ever met. Indian clothes, Spanish graces, and Yankee bluntness. So this is Refugio, at last! Hmm, hmm. Well, well, well! Where is the house!”
“Yonder, Señor, among the palms and olives that partly hide it. There is a rise of ground that way, too. Would you like to go there now?” asked Carlos, once more the courteous small host his father would have approved. ”

“ It was the sure end of the severest lecture Carlota had ever received, and the worst of it was that she felt she deserved it. She could only say that she was truly sorry and resolve to “do a lot of thinking next time before she did any acting.” Then she added, as a bitter memory was stirred:
“I begin to understand that if we hadn’t run away from Refugio our Benoni wouldn’t have died.”
“Not so fast, little girl, toward that conclusion. [134] The issues of life and death belong to God. We have no concern with them. Our business is to do right, as nearly as we can, and—now let’s try a canter!” ”

“ And how I’ll astonish Jack when I ride back on a creature so much finer than his old worn-outs! I’ll choose the very handsomest of the band and, if I have half-luck, I’ll catch it—thus!”
He whirled his lasso around his head, flung it, and deftly cleft the cactus spike toward which he had aimed.
“Well done, Carlos! Excellent! Ha! I’m proud of my father’s son this day. I didn’t know I had learned so well. If Miguel were here he’d push out his lips and say: ‘Ah! it might be worse!’ Poor old Miguel! and Dennis so jealous of him.”
Tossing the cactus aside he rewound his lariat for fresh efforts. ”

“ He’ll kill you—or you him! Dennis—Cork! Oh! Dennis, Dennis!” screamed Carlota, lustily.
The wagon, now some distance in front, came to a halt, for the girl’s cries had reached and startled its occupants, so that Mr. Burnham and Jack ran back to see what caused the uproar. Yet, at that critical moment, even they dared not interfere. They ranged themselves beside Carlota and silently watched the strange contest.
“If ’tis a fight ye be wantin’ ’tis a fight ye shall have!” yelled the trackman, now indifferent to everything save the rebellious beast for which he had spent his hardly earned dollars. ”

“ She began to cry but the lad exclaimed:
“We’ll never get anywhere if you cry all the time. I never did see anybody cry as much as you do. I wouldn’t be a girl for all New Mexico!”
They turned Benoni toward the flower-decked mound and the pair knelt there for a little time, each praying after his and her own habit, and feeling vastly comforted by the peaceful beauty of that sacred spot. Then Carlos rose and went away, and Carlota called to him:
“Brother, aren’t you coming back here?” ”

“ Instantly, upon learning who the strangers were and realizing that they had chosen the time of his master’s absence to arrive, he leaped to the conclusion that they had [46] come to carry by force what persuasion had failed to accomplish. In brief: they had come to kidnap the twins!
It was this belief which had inspired his rudeness to Mr. Rupert and this fear which had been whispered to little Carlota. He had bidden her seek Carlos and go with him to some safe place of hiding until such time as the strangers should grow weary of their fruitless efforts and depart. ”