For the Soul of Rafael Part 24

"I know it; that's all," he said, briefly, as he turned away.

"But--"

"The boy is speaking the truth; I know it!"

The sheriff looked after him a moment, and then spoke to one of the others.

"Just keep the boy here a bit until I can see clearer," he said, "if Bryton knows."

He tramped after Bryton, who was going for his own horse tied in the shadow of a pepper tree.

"Bryton, tell me _how_ you know!"

"I can't do it. Take my word or ignore it, as you like."

"But, h.e.l.l, man! it is not your word; it is only your impression! Give me your word as to how you know it, and I'll take it quick. I suppose it's some inside family history you've dropped on; but the lady is at Los Angeles, and it is some other woman they are nursing at the ranch and deceiving the servants about. That is my theory. There are some women mixed up with that Flores outfit, and I happen to know that El Capitan, who is the brain of the gang, is related to the folks at that ranch. Now, is it reasonable to think that Arteaga's wife would ride at dark, alone, over this country where hold-ups are so common? Would he let her? Would not the Downings have known?"

"They probably did know, and Rafael Arteaga certainly did," returned Bryton, impatiently. "Their picnic was more a matter of policy than a pleasure party. They wanted the bishop there, to put an end to that church fight. They wanted Dona Raquel Arteaga to serve as an attraction and help them. She has absolutely refused all along to a.s.sist with any compromise; and to avoid it this time she has evidently ridden quietly out of Los Angeles, and her husband, who wanted the picnic very much, has kept her absence a secret."

"But if she is as sick as this boy says, how could she take a thirty-mile ride on horseback?"

Bryton made a gesture of impatience.

"She is there!" he insisted. "I--I feel that she is there. The sooner you let the boy ride for Arteaga and the doctor, the less likely she is to die."

"Doctor! Did he say anything about a doctor?"

"No."

"You see, if the woman was very ill, the fellow would say it was a doctor he was riding for."

"No; it would be a priest. These women do their own doctoring. If herb teas and prayers can't save a life, it is let die. Good G.o.d! She may be dying now while we talk. Let the boy go!"

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!"

The sheriff was staring at Bryton, whose face was white and set. He was untying his horse, with quick decided movements, and cinching up the girth.

"If you don't send the boy on that errand, I'll go myself," he said, curtly.

"Well--I'll be--" The sheriff broke his sentence midway, to stare at Bryton in amazement. "What the devil is it to you?" he demanded.

"Arteaga is no bosom friend of yours, is he?"

"Not that I know of. If the boy doesn't go, I go! The girl may be dying, and the help she wants, she's going to get. Speak up!"

He was in the saddle, and the sheriff, with one look at him, walked back to the group.

"Boy, do you carry only a message to Don Rafael Arteaga?" he demanded, "or is it a written letter?"

"A letter," said he, sullenly, "and Dona Ana raise the h.e.l.l if you don't let me take it."

"Ah! The Dona Ana! I thought so. Dona Ana is an interesting little lady.

Let me see the letter."

The man hesitated, but finally pulled the letter from his pocket. The sheriff took it and walked back to Bryton.

"I'm humoring your queer notion all I know how," he observed; "for I want you south with us instead of taking the back trail. You read Spanish; the letter is not sealed. Read it."

Bryton read it aloud, slowly. Ana had not minced her words.

"RAFAEL ARTEAGA:--

"For the love of G.o.d, come quick to Raquel. Among us, some way, I think we have killed her. That she is too good for you is no reason that you should let her ride alone with a heart-break. I think myself she does not want to live any more,--and no medicine cures that. Maybe you cannot cure it either, but it is your place to be here if she dies.

"Your cousin,

"Ana Carmencita Mendez."

"You see," said Bryton, handing it back. "I told you."

"I see," conceded the sheriff. "It reads all right, but there is always a chance of--" He folded the paper thoughtfully, and stared hard at the ground. "This is all a ticklish business, Bryton, and if Flores's friends have got wind of this little _pasear_ of ours, they may send all sorts of scare messages where they will do most good. These greasers have tricks of their own, and most of them are cousins--see?"

"I see; but that is not a message of that sort. Does the boy take it, or do I?"

"The boy takes it, and I'll send a man with him to be sure he takes that message and no other; and you, if you are so keen for the road, can ride south and investigate before Cousin Ana can expect any reply to her message."

"I--ride alone to San Joaquin ranch?"

"That's it! You've got the best horse in the bunch. If the whole outfit rides in, they'll get scared, but one man alone on his way to San Juan, that looks all right. You may chance on things worth while, when we finally catch up."

"But there are other men--men who know the family better."

"Not one would be so apt to note the points we need. The family is square, but of Cousin Ana there have been some curious things said. She is the one of the lot who openly claims El Capitan as cousin. That's all we really know, but keep your eyes open."

"Let me see the letter again."

The sheriff handed it to him and looked at him curiously as he half turned away to read it, and his eyes sought out the one statement: "I think myself she does not want to live any more, and no medicine cures that. Maybe you cannot cure it either, but it is your place to be here if she dies."

He pulled his hat low over his eyes and gathered up the reins.

"All right," he said, briefly. "I will go. Adios!"

A little later, and only a cloud of dust marked the way in the south that he had gone; and the mist in his eyes, hidden so well from the sheriff, was dashed away by his hand, but came back again and again.

"It is your place to be here if she dies," he repeated, grimly,--"my Dona Espiritu--my beloved! The message was written to him, but fate sent it first to me, and I--I will be with you to-night. You will not be again alone with the heart-break."

[Music: _Indian Torture Chant._]