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Show CARMENoRANCHO-fc By FRANK H. SPEARMAN Frank H. wnu Service r ipTER XV Continued 15- c ,lUB was as good ai his s ;lien Carmen rode up to 1 ,ai halted, a look passed jem that only they under- i v .ft rode together. As they A the river Carmen point-, point-, jou see those two cabins Helena?" looked. "I do see them. -they?" jiinvitcd neighbors or ours inos, who have settled at is on the rancho." seem to think our rancho They are what you call , should be driven off. Does :JD know?" j been across there to see re of them is your old ptain Blood. He pointed a ;a Ramon and told him to :j property or he would And said, incidentally, .e too many greasers in was heard by the ears of a frontiersman fron-tiersman trained by many surprises to catch unusual sounds. In the fewest possible moments a horseman, galloping up to the nearest near-est table, threw himself from the saddle. The drooping head of the pony, his desperate panting, the froth that flecked his chest and dropped from his muzzle, the nervous nerv-ous champing at the bit, all told the story of a grueling ride. The dismounted dis-mounted rider lifted his hat and looked, dismayed and inquiringly, among the revelers as if searching for someone. Bowie rose from his seat at the table. "Pedro!" he called, raising his hand. "Senor Bowie!" exclaimed the va-quero va-quero with relief. "Please! Will you speak with me?" The vaquero walked rapidly beyond earshot of the tables, the Texan following him. "What is it, Pedro?" asked Bowie. Bow-ie. "What has happened?" "Senor Bowie Sanchez!" "What about him?" "He has been murdered." "Hit's Deaf Peterson, Mort Got any whisky? One o' the boys ez got bad toothache keepin' us all awake." "What boy?" "Can't hear y Mort Got any whisky? One o' the boys ez got a bad toothache keepin' us all" "What did you wake me up for?" demanded Blood sourly. With this abusive retort he threw open the door. Pedro understood then why Bowie had taken the east door. The faint rays of light already in the eastern sky struck Blood, standing barefoot in shirt and trousers, pistol in belt and knife in scabbard. Bowie, facing west, stood with his face in shadow. He had neither pistol nor knife on his person. For what he meant to do, either might prove his undoing. Simmie and Pedro Pe-dro had ample coverage if needed. Like the spring of a mountain lion, Bowie came down on the squatter, pinning both his arms at his sides. In vain Blood tried to get his right hand on the grip of the pistol in his trouser band. Raging, he struggled strug-gled with his left hand to reach the haft of his knife. But he was held in a loop of iron muscles capable capa-ble of cracking his ribs. Blood bit and gouged in his insane in-sane way until Bowie delivered a 7, anyway.' : spoke in the calm tone jlated to arouse the anger est man. . .jplodcd. He swore sav- English. :l understand," said Car-cently, Car-cently, though she had a -ect idea of his language. Ramon allowed that . . ." jt Bowie. ! unarmed. And he didn't : killed." r.ebody's got to do some-:ese some-:ese scoundrels will gobble gob-ble rancho piecemeal." sighed. "Discouraging for Spaniards," she said re- J "But the good God will jig for us. We are go-. go-. senor; let's turn this way y. Does Guadalupe look rent to you from what it ;r the talk turned on the roblem already seriously Jie owners of the ranchos : bay region. The scum Mlowers, always ready to emboldened by Fremont's iad spread over the land :a Insects, devouring all Ji. men's heart was set on -.da, for the success of e was accountable, and ring she had a long list of be done in making ready :nic. Bowie was called on a extent that a more so-' CHAPTER XVI "Who killed him?" Pedro, under his Indian restraint, flamed. "That Americano, El Cap-itan Cap-itan Blood." "Is that bushwacker abroad again? How did it happen, Pedro?" snapped Bowie. "This afternoon Sanchez, with his nephew Felix, was over across the river, looking for some stray cows. While Felix worked along the Mele-na, Mele-na, Blood saw Sanchez on the hill, rode up to him and ordered him off his land you know, senor." "I know. Go on!" snapped Bowie. "Sanchez told him it was not his land but that he wanted no quarrel with him and rode away. Before Sanchez had gone fifty yards Blood drew his rifle and fired at him. The bullet struck Sanchez in the back. He fell from his pony." "Did he die right away?" "He died before we got him to the house. Felix had ridden out of the swamp when Blood rode up to Sanchez. He heard the talk and saw the shot fired. Blood turned on him and swore he would kill him, too, if he ever caught him that side of the river again. So Felix loaded Sanchez on his own pony and brought my friend home." The stolid stol-id Indian's voice broke. "Get my horse. Pedro. Wait here for me. I will go back with you. Is Simmie at the rancho?" "He is, senor," Carmen seemed to him never to have looked so lovely yet there was anxiety in her eyes that she could not wholly conceal. "Shall I confess?" she murmured. "I haven't slept, and I have hardly eaten since you left. Mother of God, what a relief to see you! You ar sure you are not wounded?" "No." "Honestly?" "Honestly." "Tell me, did you find him?" "Yes." "And what happened?" "Nothing, or next to nothing." "Tell me everything, everything." "Simmie and Pedro went with me. We surprised him, and he is now jailed at Monterey on a charge of murder." "But where do you come from?" "From Monterey. I rode over with hm." She drew a deep breath. "If I told you how happy I am to see you back, unharmed, you wouldn't believe be-lieve me!" They were looking straight into each other's eyes. Perhaps Per-haps it was too intense. She took her eyes from his, looked down and resumed more calmly. "We are breaking camp tomorrow morning. I told our guests we should have to go home. They wouldn't stay after us so we are all for home tomorrow. tomor-row. And the men are trying to decide de-cide what can be done with the squatters. They are everywhere." "The best thing to do with 'em would be to hang 'em all." "Are you serious?" "Quite. They're not bona fide settlers. set-tlers. They're bushwackers and bums, here to steal what land they can and sell it to the real sctflers when they come and that won't be long now either." "They are calling the last dance. But you are too tired?" "Not tired, but you know I'm a poor dancer." She laughed. "You dance well enough. Shall we try it? Oh, there's a young don coming my way. Don't let him carry me off!" Bowie led her out. He was welcomed wel-comed by the couples in the set, and under the inspiration of the scene he threw himself into the steps. If he could not be called graceful, he was at least energetic. To hear Carmen laugh when she corrected a misstep, to watch the play of her rich mouth, of her dazzling daz-zling teeth and her red lips, to note the flash of her quick eye and the panting rise and fall of her full bosom when the dance was done and she walked proudly away on his arm, would be enough to stagger the senses of a colder man than the Texan. If she would not marry, mar-ry, as she had once told him, she was certainly friendly. The entire household of Guadalupe Guada-lupe were over next morning to pay the last tribute to the dead vaquero. Padre Martinez said the funeral Mass, and fellow riders from the rancho carried the unhappy Indian to his grave. At dinner that afternoon Dona Maria Ma-ria spoke out in no uncertain tones. "Senor Bowie," she said, addressing address-ing h'm directly, "Don Ramon feels it isn't quite right to say what I'm going to say, but I don't care and Carmen thinks just as I do, even il she doesn't say so. I think that if Rancho Guadalupe can be saved from these marauders that are threatening us on every hand, robbing rob-bing us of horses and cattle every day and stealing our land, you are the only man that can save it. All we ask is to be allowed to die in peace in our own home and without with-out protection even that may be denied us. Tell us. Senor Bowie, would you come back at any price :man might have suspect-.i suspect-.i sent for him chiefly to The Texan, however, en-work en-work hugely and, having n Don Ramon the privi-.pplying privi-.pplying the wine, made "Dnterey for some import-is import-is and for those delicacies t only along the shipping was startled next day .arretas were unloaded at bouse. "Certainly," she e stood with Dona Maria :, watching the servants pplicr, "you Americanos .M" ase remember, senorita, an Americano. I am a You said the merienda : three days. And there e good eaters among our ere won't be much of all 4 left to carry home." "etimos more fun to get a trip than to make the en, with her assistants, altime getting ready for The weather favored "e parly set out from the iigh spirits; indeed, with the servants and the -aded with hampers, and Mrretns, the string of ; riders looked like a cav- Bowie walked slowly back to the tables. The guests had risen. Pine torches were aflame and, fastened at convenient places, afforded light for the gamesters. They were playing play-ing Twenty-One. Carmen stood with a group of ladies who were discussing discuss-ing her dinner. Approaching, Bowie Bow-ie signaled to her. As she joined him she saw from his face that something was wrong. "What Is it, Senor. Bowie?" she asked hurriedly. hur-riedly. "I hate to tell you, senorita, but I must explain; yet I don't want to spoil your party. Don't let anyone any-one know. Control yourself. Sanchez San-chez has been murdered." He went on with the story despite her horrified expression. She obeyed his caution so well that he marveled mar-veled at her restraint "It would do no good to tell Don Ramon or Dona Maria at this time do you understand, senorita?" She reflected and sorrowfully assented. as-sented. "I have spoiled this wonderful won-derful party for you, Carmen, only because I felt I should tell you why I must leave. I am riding with Pedro Pe-dro back to the rancho. You would naturally want to know why. and I somehow just couldn't lie to you." "Senorita, it's those squatters, and Blood's the leader. With him to fol- "Who'i There?" blow that stunned him. In that fraction frac-tion of a second Bowie, thrusting his left leg- upward, caught the squatter's right arm under his knee. When this released his own left hand his fingers flew at Blood's neck. Despite the rolling and writhing, the squatter was held in a vise that cut off his wind. Hovering close to the two men as they threshed about the floor, stood Pedro, alert to help. Simmie, with pistols in each hand, stood inside the door ready to shoot either way to repel squatters if Blood's one frantic yell had been heard or to finish Blood himself. But no squatters appeared. The squatter, half choked, hoarse and bloodshot, hair and beard wild, his shirt torn away in the scuffle, was quickly bound with rawhide strips. It was light enough to make out faces. He burst into a torrent of profanity. "I'll have the law on you for this, you greaser's pig!" he shouted. "Easy, Blood," suggested Bowie, unconcerned. "If you want your coat pick it up. You're taking a ride." "What do you mean?" thundered or on any terms to Guadalupe? What can we do to coax you?" Don Ramon was smoking calmly. Carmen toyed with her fork and kept her eyes as closely glued on it as if she were afraid it might get away. But Dona Maria's eyes flashed with earnestness as she made her plea. Taken aback by the sudden onslaught, on-slaught, Bowie sat for a moment silent. He soon felt he must say something but couldn't make up his mind what to say. "It wouldn't be a question of terms, Dona Maria," he said at length. "But it would be hard for me to get away from Captain Cap-tain Sutter. I should have to talk with him before I could give a definite defi-nite answer. I've told you, and I tell you again, that the happiest days of my life have been spent at Guadalupe. I have an affection for the rancho itself as well as for its household; I think you all know that. But I must think things out. I should like to stay down over Sunday, anyway." the squatter. Then suddenly he wrenched furiously at the thongs on his wrists; but Pedro had tied too many rawhide knots to feel uneasy over his efforts. "I mean you're going to Monterey for jailing with a charge of murder against you." There was dancing that night at the merienda. The camp was lighted light-ed by bonfires and torches, and dons and donas, old and young, were stepping to the music of guitars and the snapping rhythm of castanets. The light voices and the laughter ringing through the pines, the soft beating of the guitars, the serene shadows of the dancers moving through the figures of quadrille and minuet, and the scene lighted by the glare and glow of the scattered fires struck into Bowie's sensibilities as he neared the camp on his pony late in the evening. He was alone and, tethering his mount, he walked to the fringe of the spectators. as led by Senorita Carded Car-ded this time by Bowie, fitting, they were early Jund among the first '' morning went to mak- and greeting new arrowing ar-rowing the annual cus-"st cus-"st dinner late in the day a atlair before settling asibly at least, to the 'taring strawberries, -on presided at the first ; Dona and Senorita ;i Henry Bowie and a ;1 guests sat with them. r was featured by game Guadalupe vaqueros. Pigmented the hostess on ick" she confessed to sicie. "Sanchez brought ly all of it the venison the quail and pigeons :aJ's. Sanchez is the best 'he rancho." 'as walking on air. Her ed every emotion a hap-Jd hap-Jd awaken: low bubbling a'ura! color deepened by i excitement; quips and 3g from a ready tongue; that flashed together. the wines were served, Jt the tables under the 'th extraordinary fervor ,Qng punctuated by the forks and the clinking 'n fact, Bowie's wines !' to inspiring more than 8 8,jrig. And as the din--ed, the senoritas raised 1 with the caballeros to 5 choruses. 'dst of this hilarity and .nts of the parting day hpofs was heard among stnt pii,es. At least, it low, they are getting Doiaer ana bolder. If they can shoot down Don Ramon's vaqueros like this on his rancho you may well ask, what next? Blood must be caught before he can get away as he will till this thing blows over." She raised her eyes. The light of the campflre struck them, flooding their depths. "You will be careful?" she stammered. "I am always careful." "But this time very careful, senor." se-nor." "I will be." "I shall neither sleep nor rest till you come back." "I may have to take him to Monterey. Mon-terey. There may be delays. Tell Don Ramon in the morning that will be time enough. Adios, Carme-lita." Carme-lita." She could only utter "Adios." Pedro took a fresh pony, and the ride back to the rancho was made in good time. Bowie routed out Simmie. If the darkest hour is just before the day, it was certainly dark when the ponies of Bowie, Simmie and Pedro splashed through the Melena swamp and forded the river a mile or so above the squatter colony. Half an hour later the three men walked single file, like ghosts, up to the east door of Blood's shack. Bowie knocked. It was some time before there was any answering sound. "Reaching for his pistol," said Bowie to himself. He knocked again just as he heard a movement within. "Who's there?" the words came in the loud hoarse tones of a man just awakened. Bowie, making no answer, knocked a third time. "Who's there?" This time the tone was savage. "Delightful, Senor," exclaimed Carmen in relief. "Then Dona Maria Ma-ria and I can have a few long rides through the hills without being afraid of being carried off." Carmen did not neglect her opportunity. oppor-tunity. She was in the saddle earl next morning, waiting for Bowie, who had been out with Pedro before be-fore sunrise to look over the cattle suitable for a matanza. Since the herd was being depleted by thieves almost daily, Don Ramon wanted to turn as many head as possible Into money. Bowie changed horses ir double-quick time when he saw Carmen Car-men and they rode into the hills. (TO BE CONTINUED) It took some little time for him to single out one he was looking for. She stood among the onlookers but a little apart, her eyes fixed on the dancers. She heard a mild voice behind her: "You are not dancing, senorita?" seno-rita?" She almost whirled to meet the words. She clasped her hands. "Oh, Senor Bowie. Thank God, you are back!" "Only keeping my promise." She regarded him with startled eyes. "You are not hurt?" "No indeed." |