Part 59 (1/2)
Juan Garcia proved to be a good guide, and he saved the refugees many miles on their road to the Rio Grande. But every farm and every village was a menace, and at first they were forced to make numerous detours.
As the night grew older, however, they rode a straighter course, urging their horses to the limit, hoping against hope to reach the border before daylight overtook them. This they might have done had it not been for Father O'Malley and Dolores, who were unused to the saddle and unable to maintain the pace Juan set for them.
About midnight the party stopped on the crest of a flinty ridge to give their horses breath and to estimate their progress. The night was fine and clear; outlined against the sky were the stalks of countless sotol-plants standing slim and bare, like the upright lances of an army at rest; ahead the road meandered across a mesa, covered with grama gra.s.s and black, formless blots of shrubbery.
Father O'Malley groaned and s.h.i.+fted his weight. ”Juan tells me we'll never reach Romero by morning, at this rate,” he said; and Dave was forced to agree. ”I think you and he and Alaire had better go on and leave Dolores and me to follow as best we can.”
Dolores plaintively seconded this suggestion. ”I would rather be burned at the stake than suffer these agonies,” she confessed. ”My bones are broken. The devil is in this horse.” She began to weep softly. ”Go, senora. Save yourself! It is my accursed fat stomach that hinders me.
Tell Benito that I perished breathing his name, and see to it, when he remarries, that he retains none of my treasures.”
Alaire rea.s.sured her by saying: ”We won't leave you. Be brave and make the best of it.”
”Yes, grit your teeth and hold on,” Dave echoed. ”We'll manage to make it somehow.”
But progress was far slower than it should have been, and the elder woman continued to lag behind, voicing her distress in groans and lamentations. The priest, who was made of sterner stuff, did his best to bear his tortures cheerfully.
In spite of their efforts the first rosy heralds of dawn discovered them still a long way from the river and just entering a more thickly settled country. Daylight came swiftly, and Juan finally gave them warning.
”We can't go on; the danger is too great,” he told them. ”If the soldiers are still in Romero, what then?”
”Have you no friends hereabouts who would take us in?” Dave inquired.
The Mexican shook his head.
Dave considered for a moment. ”You must hide here,” he told his companions, ”while I ride on to Romero and see what can be done. I suspect Blanco's troops have left, and in that case everything will be all right.”
”Suppose they haven't?” Alaire inquired. All night she had been in the lightest of moods, and had steadily refused to take their perils seriously. Now her smile chased the frown from her husband's face.
”Well, perhaps I'll have breakfast with them,” he laughed.
”Silly. I won't let you go,” she told him, firmly; and, reading the expression in her face, he felt a dizzy wonder. ”We'll find a nice secluded spot; then we'll sit down and wait for night to come. We'll pretend we're having a picnic.”
Dolores sighed at the suggestion. ”That would be heaven, but there can be no sitting down for me.”
Garcia, who had been standing in his stirrups scanning the long, flat road ahead, spoke sharply: ”CARAMBA! Here come those very soldiers now!
See!”
Far away, but evidently approaching at a smart gait, was a body of mounted men. After one look at them Dave cried:
”Into the brush, quick!” He hurried his companions ahead of him, and when they had gone perhaps a hundred yards from the road he took Juan's Winchester, saying: ”Ride in a little way farther and wait. I'm going back. If you hear me shoot, break for the river. Ride hard and keep under cover as much as possible.” Before they could remonstrate he had wheeled Montrosa and was gone.
This was luck, he told himself. Ten miles more and they would have been safe, for the Rio Grande is not a difficult river either to ford or to swim. He dismounted and made his way on foot to a point where he could command a view, but he had barely established himself when he found Alaire at his side.
”Go back,” he told her. But she would not, and so they waited together.
There were perhaps a dozen men in the approaching squad, and Dave saw that they were heavily accoutred. They rode fast, too, and at their head galloped a large man under a wide-brimmed felt hat. It soon became evident that the soldiers were not uniformed. Therefore, Dave reasoned, they were not Federals, but more probably some Rebel scouting band from the south, and yet--He rubbed his eyes and stared again.
Dave pressed forward eagerly, incredulously; the next instant he had broken cover with a shout. Alaire was at his side, clapping her hands and laughing with excitement.