Part 29 (1/2)
Jondo gave a start.
”I'd like to forget that man, not talk about him,” he replied.
”But it is to help somebody else, not just to be good to myself, that I want to know it,” I insisted, using his own terms. And then I told him what Eloise had told me in the San Miguel church.
”Are the Ramero's so powerful here that they can control the Church in their scheme to get what they want?” I asked.
”It would be foolish to underestimate the strength of Ferdinand Ramero,”
Jondo replied, adding, grimly, ”It has been my lot to know the best of men who could make me believe all men are good, and the worst of men who make me doubt all humanity.” He clenched his fists as if to hold himself in check, and something, neither sigh nor groan nor oath nor prayer, but like them all, burst from his lips.
”If you ever have a real cross, Gail, thank the Lord for the green prairies and the open plains, and the danger-stimulus of the old Santa Fe Trail. They will seal up your wounds, and soften your hard, rebellious heart, and make you see things big, and despise the narrow little crooks in your path.”
One must have known Jondo, with his bluff manner and sunny smile and daring spirit, to feel the force, of these brave sad words. I felt intuitively that I had laid bare a wound of his by my story.
”It is for Eloise, not for my curiosity, that I have come to you,” I said, gently.
”And you didn't come too soon, boy.” Jondo was himself in a moment. ”It is another cruel act in the old tragedy of Ramero against Clarenden and others.”
”Will the Church be bribed by the St. Vrain estate and urge this wedding?” I asked.
”The Church considers money as so much power for the Kingdom. I have heard that the St. Vrain estate was left in Ramero's hands with the proviso that if Eloise should marry foolishly before she was twenty-five she, would lose her property. Do you see the trick in the game, and why Ramero can say that if he chooses he can take her heritage away from her? But as he keeps everything in his own hands it is hard to know the truth about anything connected with money matters.”
”Would Father Josef be party to such a transaction?” I asked, angrily.
”Ramero thinks so, but he is mistaken,” Jondo replied.
”What makes you think he won't be?” I insisted.
”Because I knew Father Josef before he became a priest, and why he took the vows,” Jondo declared. ”Unless a man brings some manhood to the altar, he will not find it in the t.i.tle nor the dress there, it makes no difference whether he be Catholic, Protestant, Hebrew, or heathen.
Father Josef was a gentleman before he was a priest.”
”Well, if he's all right, why did he bring Eloise back here into the heart of all this trouble?” I questioned.
Jondo sat thinking for a little while, then he said, a.s.suringly:
”I don't know his motive, unless he felt he could protect her here himself; but I tell you, my boy, he can be trusted. Let me tell you something, Gail. When Esmond Clarenden and I were boys back in a New England college we knew two fellows from the Southwest whose fathers were in official circles at Was.h.i.+ngton. One was Felix Narveo, thoroughbred Mexican, thoroughbred gentleman, a bit lacking in initiative sometimes, for he came from the warmer, lazier lands, but as true as the compa.s.s in his character. The other fellow was d.i.c.k Verra, French father, English mother; I think he had a strain of Indian blood farther back somewhere, but he would have been a prince in any tribe or nation. A happy, wholesome, red-blooded, young fellow, with the world before him for his conquest.
”We knew another fellow, too, Fred Ramer, self-willed, imperious, extravagant in his habits, greedy and unscrupulous; but he was handsome and masterful, with a compelling magnetism that made us admire him and bound us to him. He had never known what it meant to have a single wish denied him. And with his make-up, he would stop at nothing to have his own way, until his wilful pride and stubbornness and love of luxury ruined him. But in our college days we were his satellites. He was always in debt to all of us, for money was his only G.o.d and we never dared to press him for payment. The only one of us who ever overruled him was d.i.c.k Verra. But d.i.c.k was a born master of men. There was one other chum of ours, but I'll tell you about him later. Boys together, we had many escapades and some serious problems, until by the time our college days were over we were bound together by those ties that are made in jest and broken with choking voices and eyes full of tears.”
Jondo paused and I waited, silent, until he should continue.
”Things happened to that little group of college men as time went on.
You know your uncle's life, leading merchant of Kansas City and the Southwest; and mine, plainsman and freighter on the Santa Fe Trail.
Felix Narveo's history is easily read. Esmond Clarenden came down here at the outbreak of the Mexican War, and together he and Narveo laid the foundation for the present trail commerce that is making the country at either end of it rich and strong. d.i.c.k Verra is now Father Josef.” Jondo paused as if to gather force for the rest of the story. Then he said:
”Back at college we all knew Mary Marchland, a beautiful Louisiana girl who visited in Was.h.i.+ngton and New England, and all of us were in love with her. When our life-lines crossed again Clarenden had come to St.
Louis. About that time his two older brothers and their wives died suddenly of yellow fever, leaving you and Beverly alone. It was Felix Narveo who brought you up to St. Louis to your uncle.”
”I remember that. The steamboat, and the Spanish language, and Felix Narveo's face. I recalled that when I saw him years ago,” I exclaimed.
”You always were all eyes and ears, remembering names and faces, where Beverly would not recall anything,” Jondo declared.