The Blood of the Conquerors Part 12

The most modern part of his equipment was his weapon. He did not want to carry one openly, so he had purchased a small but highly efficient automatic pistol, which he wore in a shoulder scabbard inside his s.h.i.+rt and under his left elbow.

When his preparations were completed he rode straight to the town of Alfego where the powerful Solomon had his establishment, dismounted under the big cottonwoods and strolled into the long, dark cluttered _adobe_ room which was Solomon Alfegos store. Three or four Mexican clerks were waiting upon as many Mexican customers, with much polite, low-voiced conversation, punctuated by long silences while the customers turned the goods over and over in their hands. Ramons entrance created a slight diversion. None of them knew him, for he had not been in that country for years, but all of them recognized that he was a person of weight and importance. He saluted all at once, lifting his hat, with a cordial _Como lo va, amigos_, and then devoted himself to an apparently interested inspection of the stock. This, if conscientiously done, would have afforded a weeks occupation, for Solomon Alfego served as sole merchant for a large territory and had to be prepared to supply almost every human want. There were shelves of dry goods and of hardware, of tobacco and of medicines. In the centre of the store was a long rack, heavily laden with saddlery and harness of all kinds, and all around the top of the room, above the shelves, ran a row of religious pictures, including popes, saints, and cardinals, Mary with the infant, Christ crucified and Christ bearing the cross, all done in bright colours and framed, for sale at about three dollars each.

It was not long before word of the strangers arrival reached Alfego in his little office behind the store, and he came bustling out, beaming and polite.

This is Senor Solomon Alfego? Ramon enquired in his most formal Spanish.

I am Solomon Alfego, replied the bulky little man, with a low bow, and what can I do for the Senor?

I am Ramon Delcasar, Ramon replied, extending his hand with a smile, and it may be that you can do much for me.

Ah-h-h! breathed Alfego, with another bow, Ramon Delcasar! And I knew you when you were _un muchachito_ (a little boy). He bent over and measured scant two feet from the floor with his hand. My house is yours.

I am at your service. _Siempre!_

The two strolled about the store, talking of the weather, politics, business, the old dayseverything except what they were both thinking about. Alfego opened a box of cigars, and having lit a couple of these, they went out on the long porch and sat down on an old buggy seat to continue the conversation. Alfego admired Ramons horse and especially his silver-mounted saddle.

Ha! you like the saddle! Ramon exclaimed in well-stimulated delight. He rose, swiftly undid the cinches, and dropped saddle and blanket at the feet of his host. It is yours! he announced.

A thousand thanks, Alfego replied. Come; I wish to show you some Navajo blankets I bought the other day. He led the way into the store, and directed one of his clerks to bring forth a great stack of the heavy Indian weaves, and began turning them over. They were blankets of the best quality, and some of the designs in red, black and grey were of exceptional beauty. Ramon stood smiling while his host turned over one blanket after another. As he displayed each one he turned his bright pop-eyes on Ramon with an eager enquiring look. At last when he had seen them all, Ramon permitted himself to pick up and examine the one he considered the best with a restrained murmur of admiration.

You like it! exclaimed Alfego with delight. It is yours!

Mutual good feeling having thus been signalized in the traditional Mexican manner by an exchange of gifts, Alfego now showed his guest all over his establishment. It included, in addition to the store, several ware rooms where were piled stinking bales of sheep and goat and cow hides, sacks of raw wool and of corn, pelts of wild animals and bags of _pinon_ nuts, and of beans, all taken from the Mexicans in trade. Afterward Ramon met the family, of patriarchal proportions, including an astonis.h.i.+ng number of little brown children having the bright eyes and well developed noses of the great Solomon. Then came supper, a long and bountiful feast, at which great quant.i.ties of mutton, chile, and beans were served.

Having thus been duly impressed with the greatness and substance of his host, and also with his friendly att.i.tude, Ramon was led into the little office, offered a seat and a fresh cigar. He knew that at last the proper time had come for him to declare himself.

My friend, he said, leaning toward Alfego confidentially, I have come to this country and to you for a great purpose. You know that a rich gringo has been buying the lands of the poor peoplemy people and yoursall through this country. You know that he intends to own all of this countryto take it away from us Mexicans. If he succeeds, he will take away all of your business, all of my lands. You and I must fight him together. Am I right?

Solomon nodded his head slowly, watching Ramon with wide bright eyes.

_Verdad!_ he p.r.o.nounced unctuously.

I have come, Ramon went on more boldly, because my own lands are in danger, but also because I love the Mexican people, and hate the gringos!

Some one must go among these good people and warn them not to sell their lands, not to be cheated out of their birthrights. My friend, I have come here to do that.

_Bueno!_ exclaimed Alfego. _Muy bueno!_

My friend, I must have your help.

Ramon said this as impressively as possible, and paused expectantly, but as Alfego said nothing, he went on, gathering his wits for the supreme effort.

I know that you are a leader in the great fraternity of the penitent brothers, who are the best and most pious of men. My friend, I wish to become one of them. I wish to mingle my blood with theirs and with the blood of Christ, that all of us may be united in our great purpose to keep this country for the Spanish people, who conquered it from the barbarians.

Alfego looked very grave, puffed his cigar violently three times and spat before he answered.

My young friend, (he spoke slowly and solemnly) to pour out your blood in penance and to consecrate your body to Christ is a great thing to do.

Have you meditated deeply upon this step? Are you sure the Lord Jesus has called you to his service? And what a.s.surance have I that you are sincere in all you say, that if I make you my brother in the blood of Christ, you will truly be as a brother to me?

Ramon bowed his head.

I have thought long on this, he said softly, and I know my heart. I desire to be a blood brother to all these, my people. And to youI give you my word as a Delcasar that I will serve you well, that I will be as a brother to you.

There was a silence during which Alfego stared with profound gravity at the ash on the end of his cigar.

Have you heard, Ramon went on, in the same soft and emotional tone of voice, that the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad is going to build a line through the San Antonio Valley?

Alfego, without altering his look of rapt meditation, nodded his head slowly.

Do you suppose that you will gain anything by that, if this gringo gets these lands? Ramon went on. You know that you will not. But I will make you my partner. And I will give you the option on any of my mountain land that you may wish to rent for sheep range. More than that, I will make you a written agreement to do these things. In all ways we will be as brothers.

You are a worthy and pious young man! exclaimed Solomon Alfego, rolling his eyes upward, his voice vibrant with emotion. You shall be my brother in the blood of Christ.

CHAPTER XXIII

Ramon went to the _Morada_, the chapter house of the _penitentes_, alone and late at night, for all of the whippings and initiations of the order, except those of Holy Week, are carried on in the utmost secrecy.

The _Morada_ stood halfway up the slope north of the little town, at the elevation where the tall yellow pines of the mountains begin to replace the scrubby juniper and _pinon_ of the _mesas_ and foothills. It was a cool moonlit night of late summer. A light west wind breathed through the trees, making the ma.s.sive black shadows of the juniper bushes faintly alive. As he toiled up the rocky path Ramon heard the faraway yap and yodel of a coyote, and the still more distant answer of another one. From the valley below came the intermittent bay of a cur, inspired by the moon and his wild kin, and now and then the tiny silver tinkle of a goat bell.

The _Morada_ stood in an open s.p.a.ce. It was an oblong block of _adobe_, and gave forth neither light nor sound. Ramon stopped a little way from it in the shadow of a tree and lit a cigarette to steady his nerves. He felt now for the first time something of the mystery and terribleness of this barbaric order which he proposed to use for his purpose. All his life the _penitentes_ had been to him a well-known fact of life. For the past week he had spent much of his time with the _maestro de novios_ of the local chapter, a wizened old sheep herder, who had instructed him monotonously in the secrets of the order, almost lulling him to sleep with his endless mumblings of the ritual that was written in a little leather book a century old. He had learned that if he betrayed the secrets of the order, he would be buried alive with only his head sticking out of the ground, so that the ants might eat his face. He had been informed that if he fell ill he would be taken to the _Morada_ where his brothers in Christ would pray for him, and seek to drive the devil out of his body, and that if he died, they would send his shoes to his family as a notice of that event; and would bury him in consecrated ground. Some of the things he had learned had bored him and some had made him want to laugh, but none of them had impressed him, as they were intended to do, with the might and dignity of the ancient order.

He was impressed now as he stood before this dark still house where a dozen ignorant fanatics waited to take his blood for what was to them a holy purpose. He knew that this _Morada_ was a very old one. He thought of all the true penitents who had knocked for admission at its door and had gone through its b.l.o.o.d.y ordeal with a zeal of madness which had enabled them to cry loudly for blows and more blows until they fell insensible. He tried to imagine their state of mind, but he could not. He was of their race and a growth of the same soil, but an alien civilization had touched him and sundered him from them, yet without taking him for its own. He could only nerve himself to face this ordeal because it would serve his one great purpose.

As he stood there, a curious half-irrelevant thought came into his mind.

He knew that the marks they would make on his back would be permanent. He had seen the long rough scars on the backs of sheep-herders, stripped to the waist for the hot work of shearing. And he wondered how he would explain these strange scars to Julia. He imagined her discovering them with her long dainty hands, her round white arms. A great longing surged up in him that seemed to weaken the very tissues of his body. He shook himself, threw away his cigarette, went to the heavy wooden door and knocked.

Now he spoke a rigamarole in Spanish which had been taught him by rote.

G.o.d knocks at this missions door for His clemency, he called.

From within came a deep-voiced chorus, the first sound he had heard from the house, seeming weirdly to be the voice of the house itself.

Penance, penance, which seeks salvation! it chanted.

Saint Peter will open to me the gate, bathing me with the light, in the name of Mary, with the seal of Jesus, Ramon went on, repeating as he had learned. I ask this confraternity. Who gives this house light?

Jesus, answered the chorus within.

Who fills it with joy?

Mary.

Who preserves it with faith?

Joseph!