Part 28 (2/2)
Antonio's mother threw hers down; I don't know how the old woman ever had the strength; they said she was like a fury. She said n.o.body should ever live in those walls again; and she took a pole, and made a great hole in one side, and then she ran Antonio's wagon against it with all her might, till it fell in. No, Majella. It will be dreadful.”
”Wouldn't you like to go into the graveyard again, Alessandro?” she said timidly.
”The saints forbid!” he said solemnly. ”I think it would make me a murderer to stand in that graveyard! If I had not you, my Majel, I should kill some white man when I came out. Oh, do not speak of it!” he added, after a moment's silence; ”it takes the strength all out of my blood again, Majella. It feels as if I should die!”
And the word ”Temecula” was not mentioned between them again until dusk the next day, when, as they were riding slowly along between low, wooded hills, they suddenly came to an opening, a green, marshy place, with a little thread of trickling water, at which their horses stopped, and drank thirstily; and Ramona, looking ahead, saw lights twinkling in the distance. ”Lights, Alessandro, lights!” she exclaimed, pointing to them.
”Yes, Majella,” he replied, ”it is Temecula,” and springing off his pony he came to her side, and putting both his hands on hers, said: ”I have been thinking, for a long way back, Carita, what is to be done here. I do not know. What does Majella think will be wise? If men have been sent out to pursue us, they may be at Hartsel's. His store is the place where everybody stops, everybody goes. I dare not have you go there, Majella; yet I must go. The only way I can get any money is from Mr. Hartsel.”
”I must wait somewhere while you go!” said Ramona, her heart beating as she gazed ahead into the blackness of the great plain. It looked vast as the sea. ”That is the only safe thing, Alessandro.”
”I think so too,” he said; ”but, oh, I am afraid for you; and will not you be afraid?”
”Yes,” she replied, ”I am afraid. But it is not so dangerous as the other.”
”If anything were to happen to me, and I could not come back to you, Majella, if you give Baba his reins he will take you safe home,--he and Capitan.”
Ramona shrieked aloud. She had not thought of this possibility.
Alessandro had thought of everything. ”What could happen?” she cried.
”I mean if the men were there, and if they took me for stealing the horse,” he said.
”But you would not have the horse with you,” she said. ”How could they take you?”
”That mightn't make any difference,” replied Alessandro. ”They might take me, to make me tell where the horse was.”
”Oh, Alessandro,” sobbed Ramona, ”what shall we do!” Then in another second, gathering her courage, she exclaimed, ”Alessandro, I know what I will do. I will stay in the graveyard. No one will come there. Shall I not be safest there?”
”Holy Virgin! would my Majel stay there?” exclaimed Alessandro.
”Why not?” she said. ”It is not the dead that will harm us. They would all help us if they could. I have no fear. I will wait there while you go; and if you do not come in an hour, I will come to Mr. Hartsel's after you. If there are men of the Senora's there, they will know me; they will not dare to touch me. They will know that Felipe would punish them. I will not be afraid. And if they are ordered to take Baba, they can have him; we can walk when the pony is tired.”
Her confidence was contagious. ”My wood-dove has in her breast the heart of the lion,” said Alessandro, fondly. ”We will do as she says. She is wise;” and he turned their horses' heads in the direction of the graveyard. It was surrounded by a low adobe wall, with one small gate of wooden paling. As they reached it, Alessandro exclaimed, ”The thieves have taken the gate!”
”What could they have wanted with that?” said Ramona
”To burn,” he said doggedly, ”It was wood; but it was very little. They might have left the graves safe from wild beasts and cattle!”
As they entered the enclosure, a dark figure rose from one of the graves. Ramona started.
”Fear nothing,” whispered Alessandro. ”It must be one of our people. I am glad; now you will not be alone. It is Carmena, I am sure. That was the corner where they buried Jose. I will speak to her;” and leaving Ramona at the gate, he went slowly on, saying in a low voice, in the Luiseno language, ”Carmena, is that you? Have no fear. It is I, Alessandro!”
It was Carmena. The poor creature, nearly crazed with grief, was spending her days by her baby's grave in Pachanga, and her nights by her husband's in Temecula. She dared not come to Temecula by day, for the Americans were there, and she feared them. After a short talk with her, Alessandro returned, leading her along. Bringing her to Ramona's side, he laid her feverish hand in Ramona's, and said: ”Majella, I have told her all. She cannot speak a word of Spanish, but she is very glad, she says, that you have come with me, and she will stay close by your side till I come back.”
Ramona's tender heart ached with desire to comfort the girl; but all she could do was to press her hand in silence. Even in the darkness she could see the hollow, mournful eyes and the wasted cheek. Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy. Carmena felt in every fibre how Ramona was pitying her. Presently she made a gentle motion, as if to draw her from the saddle. Ramona bent down and looked inquiringly into her face.
Again she drew her gently with one hand, and with the other pointed to the corner from which she had come. Ramona understood. ”She wants to show me her husband's grave,” she thought. ”She does not like to be away from it. I will go with her.”
Dismounting, and taking Baba's bridle over her arm, she bowed her head a.s.sentingly, and still keeping firm hold of Carmena's hand, followed her. The graves were thick, and irregularly placed, each mound marked by a small wooden cross. Carmena led with the swift step of one who knew each inch of the way by heart. More than once Ramona stumbled and nearly fell, and Baba was impatient and restive at the strange inequalities under his feet. When they reached the corner, Ramona saw the fresh-piled earth of the new grave. Uttering a wailing cry, Carmena, drawing Ramona to the edge of it, pointing down with her right hand, then laid both hands on her heart, and gazed at Ramona piteously. Ramona burst into weeping, and again clasping Carmena's hand, laid it on her own breast, to show her sympathy. Carmena did not weep. She was long past that; and she felt for the moment lifted out of herself by the sweet, sudden sympathy of this stranger,--this girl like herself, yet so different, so wonderful, so beautiful, Carmena was sure she must be. Had the saints sent her from heaven to Alessandro? What did it mean? Carmena's bosom was heaving with the things she longed to say and to ask; but all she could do was to press Ramona's hand again and again, and occasionally lay her soft cheek upon it.
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