Part 30 (1/2)

Jose's dark face blazed; he bent forward eagerly. ”What did you suspect, and why? Tell me all. There is something black and h.e.l.lish here, and I must know about it quickly.”

”Suppose you tell me your story first,” Alaire answered, ”and remember that you are excited.”

The Mexican lowered his voice. ”Bueno! Forgive me if I seem half crazed. Well, I rode to that water-hole and found--nothing. It is a lonely place; only the brush cattle use it; but I said to myself, 'Panfilo drank here. He was here. Beyond there is nothing. So I will begin.' G.o.d was my helper, senora. I found him--his bones as naked and clean as pebbles. Caramba! You should have heard me then! I was like a demon! I couldn't think, I couldn't reason. I rode from that accursed spot as if Panfilo's ghost pursued me and--I am here. I shall rouse the country; the people shall demand the blood of my cousin's a.s.sa.s.sin. It is the crime of a century.”

”Wait! When you spoke to me last I didn't dream that Panfilo was dead, but since then I have learned the truth, and why he was killed. You must let me tell you everything, Jose, just as it happened; then--you may do whatever you think best. And you shall have the whole truth.”

It was a trying situation; in spite of her brave beginning, Alaire was tempted to send the Mexican on to Jonesville, there to receive an explanation directly from David Law himself; but such a course she dared not risk. Jose was indeed half crazed, and at this moment quite irresponsible; if he met Dave, terrible consequences would surely follow. Accordingly, it was with a peculiar, apprehensive flatter in her breast that Alaire realized the crisis had come. Heretofore she had blamed Law, but now, oddly enough, she found herself interested in defending him. As calmly as she could she related all that had led up to the tragedy, while Jose listened with eyes wide and mouth open.

”You see, I had no suspicion of the truth,” she concluded. ”It was a terrible thing, and Mr. Law regrets it deeply. He would have made a report to the authorities, only--he feared it might embarra.s.s me. He will repeat to you all that I have said, and he is ready to meet the consequences.”

Jose was torn with rage, yet plainly a prey to indecision; he rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. ”These Rangers!” he muttered.

”That is the kind of men they are. They murder honest people.”

”This was not murder,” Alaire cried, sharply. ”Panfilo was aiding a felon to escape. The courts will not punish Mr. Law.”

”Bah! Who cares for the courts? This man is a Gringo, and these are Gringo laws. But I am Mexican, and Panfilo was my cousin. We shall see.”

Alaire's eyes darkened. ”Don't be rash, Jose,” she exclaimed, warningly. ”Mr. Law bears you no ill-will, but--he is a dangerous man.

You would do well to make some inquiries about him. You are a good man; you have a long life before you.” Reading the fellow's black look, she argued: ”You think I am taking his part because he is my countryman, but he needs no one to defend him. He will make this whole story public and face the consequences. I like you, and I don't wish to see you come to a worse end than your cousin Panfilo.”

Jose continued to glower. Then, turning away, he said, without meeting his employer's eyes, ”I would like to draw my money.”

”Very well. I am sorry to have you leave Las Palmas, for I have regarded you as one of my gente.” Jose's face remained stony. ”What do you intend to do? Where are you going?”

The fellow shrugged. ”Quien sabe! Perhaps I shall go to my General Longorio. He is in Romero, just across the river; he knows a brave man when he sees one, and he needs fellows like me to kill rebels. Well, you shall hear of me. People will tell you about that demon of a Jose whose cousin was murdered by the Rangers. Yes, I have the heart of a bandit.”

Alaire smiled faintly. ”You will be shot,” she told him. ”Those soldiers have little to eat and no money at all.”

But Jose's bright eyes remained hostile and his expression baffling. It was plain to Alaire that her explanation of his cousin's death had carried not the slightest conviction, and she even began to fear that her part in the affair had caused him to look upon her as an accessory.

Nevertheless, when she paid him his wages she gave him a good horse, which Jose accepted with thanks but without grat.i.tude. As Alaire watched him ride away with never a backward glance she decided that she must lose no time in apprising the Ranger of this new condition of affairs.

She drove her automobile to Jonesville that afternoon, more worried than she cared to admit. It was a moral certainty, she knew, that Jose Sanchez would, sooner or later, attempt to take vengeance upon his cousin's slayer, and there was no telling when he might become sufficiently inflamed with poisonous Mexican liquor to be in the mood for killing. Then, too, there were friends of Panfilo always ready to lend bad counsel.

Law was nowhere in town, and so, in spite of her reluctance, Alaire was forced to look for him at the Joneses' home. As she had never called upon Paloma, and had made it almost impossible for the girl to visit Las Palmas, the meeting of the two women was somewhat formal. But no one could long remain stiff or constrained with Paloma Jones; the girl had a directness of manner and an honest, friendly smile that simply would not be denied. Her delight that Alaire had come to see her pleased and shamed the elder woman, who hesitatingly confessed the object of her visit.

”Oh, I thought you were calling on me.” Paloma pouted her pretty lips.

”Dave isn't here. He and father--have gone away.” A little pucker of apprehension appeared upon her brow.

”I must get word to him at once.”

Miss Jones shook her head. ”Is it very important?”

It needed no close observation to discover the concern in Paloma's eyes; Alaire told her story quickly. ”Mr. Law must be warned right away,” she added, ”for the man is capable of anything.”

Paloma nodded. ”Dave told us how he had killed Panfilo--” She hesitated, and then cried, impulsively: ”Mrs. Austin, I'm going to confess something--I've got to tell somebody or I'll burst. I was walking the floor when you came. Well, Dad and Dave have completely lost their wits. They have gone across the river--to get Ricardo Guzman's body.”

”What?” Alaire stared at the girl uncomprehendingly.