Stoneheart: A Romance

A smile of triumph lighted up her face.

"If I did not love you," she said, "could I not have chosen Don Fernando, who is now at the hacienda?"

"Yes, yes; you are a thousand times right! O woman! Adorable woman! Who is able to fathom thy heart?"

Doña Hermosa smiled bitterly: she had brought the lion captive to her feet; she had vanquished man in his pride. Now she was sure of her revenge.

"What answer shall I give my father?" she said.

He drew himself up to his full height; his eyes flashed, his features grew radiant, and he answered in a low tone:

"Señorita, my happiness is immeasurable. Say to your father, that the devotion of a whole life cannot repay the bliss of this interview. As soon as the presidio of San Lucar is taken, I shall present myself at the hacienda of Don Pedro de Luna."

CHAPTER XII.

WOMAN'S WILL

Every extreme situation, as soon as it reaches its culminating point, must necessarily subside into a reaction of an opposite tendency. This was exactly what happened after the scene we described in the last chapter.

Don Torribio, beside himself with joy, could not accept Doña Hermosa's protestations of love without a certain degree of mistrust. Yet the improbability of her having taken this decided step from other motives than the one she professed, had materially aided her in the successful attempt to hoodwink her admirer.

Intelligence of a high class is often accompanied by a weakness detrimental to its possessors: they cannot bring themselves to believe, that those who fawn upon them and flatter their propensities are sufficiently acute to deceive them. And so it happened in this case. How could he fail to believe a girl, still almost a child, whose manner seemed so guileless, whose looks were fraught with love, and who avowed her affection so frankly?

What could she gain by deceiving him, now Don Fernando was alive? What object could she have in coming thus to put herself into his hands, without the possibility of escaping from him?

All this appeared absurd: and was so, in fact, up to a certain point.

It only proved that Don Torribio, preeminently a statesman, endowed with admirable talent, and whose sole aim through life had been the accomplishment of his dreams of ambition, was so entirely absorbed in farfetched political calculations, that he had no time to study that amalgam of archness, grace, and perfidy we call woman, and knew nothing about her nature.

A woman South American woman especially – never forgives an injury to her lover; he is the holy ark which none may touch.

Moreover, we must say, Doña Hermosa was the first, the only love of Don Torribio. His love was to him a creed, a faith; and all doubt vanished from before his eyes at the proof she had just given of her affection.

"And now," she said to him, "can I remain in the camp till my father comes, without risking insult?"

"You have but to command!" he replied: "All here are your slaves."

"The woman, under whose protection I was able to reach you will go back to the hacienda of Las Norias."

Don Torribio strode to the curtain of the toldo, and clapped his hands twice.

An Indian warrior appeared.

"Let a toldo be prepared for me; I cede this to the two paleface women," he said, in the Apache language; "a body of chosen braves, whom my brother will command, will watch incessantly over their safety. Woe to him who fails in the profoundest respect! These women are sacred; free to come and go, and to receive whomsoever they choose. Does my brother understand?"

The warrior bowed his head without reply.

"Let my brother have two horses ready."

The Indian disappeared.

"You see, señorita," he continued, turning towards her, "you are queen here."

"I thank you!" said Doña Hermosa, drawing from her bosom an open letter she had prepared for the occasion; "I felt sure of the result of my interview with you: you see, I have announced it to my father, even before I met you. Take this, Don Torribio, and read what I have written."

She held it out to him with a charming smile, but an inward misgiving.

"Señorita," he replied, motioning the letter away, "what a daughter writes to her father should be sacred; no one but himself should read it."

Doña Hermosa folded up the letter, without evincing the least emotion at the terrible risk she had just run, and gave it to Manuela.

"Mother," she said, "you will give this letter to my father, and explain to him what I have not been able to write."

"Allow me to retire," exclaimed Don Torribio; "I must not listen to the instructions you are about to give to your attendant."

"I object," she replied; "I must have no secrets from you; henceforth you must know all my inmost thoughts."

Don Torribio glowed with delight. Just then they brought the horses. Doña Hermosa profited by the opportunity afforded by his speaking to the Apache to say rapidly to Manuela: "Your son must be here in an hour, if that be possible."

Manuela made a sign of acquiescence, and Don Torribio reentered the toldo.

"I myself will accompany Ña Manuela as far as the defences of the presidio; this will insure her from incurring any danger."

"Thanks, once more," replied Doña Hermosa.

The two women threw themselves into each other's arms, and embraced as if they were never to meet again.

"Do not forget!" whispered Doña Hermosa.

"Trust in me," replied Manuela.

"This is now your home," said Don Torribio "no one will dare to enter without your permission."

Doña Hermosa smiled her thanks, and accompanied them to the entrance of the toldo; Manuela and her escort mounted and departed.

The young Mexican followed them with her eyes till the sound of their horses' feet was lost amid the other noises in the camp, when she returned to the toldo, murmuring: "The first steps are taken: now to discover his intentions!"

A quarter of an hour later, Manuela and her guide arrived within a hundred yards of the pueblo. They had not exchanged a word.

"You have now no further need of me," said Don Torribio. "Keep the horse; he may be useful to you. May God preserve you!"

Without another word, he turned his horse, and rode back to the camp, leaving Manuela alone.

The latter looked about her to discover whereabouts she was, and then rode resolutely towards the town, which was looming in a dark mass before her. She had only gone a few paces, when a rude hand seized her reins, a pistol was presented at her head, and a rough voice exclaimed, in Spanish:

"Who goes there?"

"Friend," she replied, attempting to conceal her trepidation.

"Mother!" cried a joyful voice.

"Estevan, my darling child," she exclaimed, throwing herself on his breast, to which she was clasped in the most affectionate embrace.

"How did you come here, and whence?" he asked, after a time.

"From the camp of the redskins."

"Already!" said he, in astonishment.

"Yes; my mistress sends me to you."

"And who was the man with you, mother?"

"Don Torribio himself."

"Malediction!" exclaimed the mayor domo; "I have let him escape, when I had covered him for five minutes with my rifle. But we will not stay here. Come with me. As soon as I have placed you in safety, you shall relate what your mistress has charged you to communicate to me."

When they got into the presidio, Don Estevan made his mother recount the incidents of their expedition.

"Ah!" said he more than once; "Women are imps of cunning; men are but fools beside them!"

When Manuela had quite finished her tale, he said: "Mother, there is not a moment to lose: Don Pedro must get the letter this very night. The poor father must be in a state of dreadful anxiety."

"I am going to him myself," said Manuela.

"No!" he replied "you have need of rest. I have a man here who will acquit himself well of this commission."

"As you please, Estevan," said she, giving him the letter.

"Yes, I think this will be the best way. Come into this house; the good woman to whom it belongs knows me, and will take every care of you."

"Are you going to Doña Hermosa?"

"By Heavens! Do you think I intend to leave the poor girl there, in the midst of those infidels? Besides, what she has got to say to me may concern us all narrowly."

"Devoted as ever, Estevan! How like you that is?"

"What can I do, mother?" he replied, with a laugh. "Devotion seems to be my vocation."

He led his mother into the house, where he confided her to its mistress, and then went in search of his emissary to Don Pedro de Luna.

Round a bright fire burning in the centre of the street several men were lying, wrapped in their cloaks. Don Estevan roughly shook one of the sleepers.

"Wake, Tonillo!" he said; "Get up, muchacho: you must be off for the Hacienda de las Norias."

"But I only came thence a quarter of an hour ago!" replied the lepero, rubbing his eyes, and still half asleep.

"I know it; and that is the reason why I send you; you ought to know the road well. Besides, it is for Doña Hermosa's sake."

"For Doña Hermosa's sake!" cried the lepero, whom the sound of the name seemed to awaken thoroughly; "What are her orders?"

"Now you are as you should be," said the mayor domo. "Mount directly, and carry this letter to Don Pedro: to say it is from his daughter, is to tell you it is of importance."

"Very well; I will go this minute."

"I have no need to tell you that no one must take this paper from you."

"I can see that, canarios."

"You will let yourself be killed sooner than give it up?"

"Yes, yes; make yourself easy, mayor domo."

"And even after death they must not find it."

"I will sooner eat it; Rayo de Dios!" El Zapote was galloping towards the hacienda a quarter of an hour later.

"It is my turn now," said the mayor domo to himself, as soon as he was alone; "but how am I to get to Doña Hermosa?"

It seemed as if a little consideration had enlightened him as to the means, for he banished the frown from his forehead, and gaily took the road to the fort.

After a conference with Major Barnum, who, since the death of the governor, had assumed the command of the town, Estevan disguised himself as an Indian, and went to the camp of the redskins. Shortly before sunrise he was in the town again.

"Well!" said his mother.

"All is for the best," he replied. "¡Vive Dios! I think Doña Hermosa will make that incarnate demon pay dearly for kidnapping Don Fernando."

"Am I to rejoin her?"

"No; it is not necessary."

Without entering into any details, Don Estevan who was sinking from fatigue, retired to snatch a few hours' repose.

Several days passed without the Indians attacking the pueblo. They contented themselves with investing it more closely, without attempting an assault. Their plan seemed to be to starve out the inhabitants, and force them to surrender from famine.

The blockade was kept so strictly, that it was impossible for the besieged to stir beyond their lines: all their communications were cut off, and provisions began to fail. The cattle which had been collected at the commencement of the siege had all been killed, and the Mexicans were now driven to the necessity of consuming the hides.

The plan would doubtless have succeeded; and the Mexicans, reduced to the last extremity, would soon have been obliged to surrender without striking a blow; but a project of Don Estevan's, communicated to Major Barnum, and executed without delay, suddenly defeated the Tigercat's plans, and obliged him to make the assault, in order to hinder the revolt of the tribes who followed him. The Mexicans, whom the pangs of famine were driving to despair, were eagerly longing for the assault.

Don Estevan ordered a hundred and fifty loaves to be made of wheat saturated with arsenic. These were packed on a few mules, still left in the fort, in company with twenty-four kegs of brandy mixed with vitriol. With ten trusty fellows, he escorted this formidable freight to within a short distance of the redskin intrenchments.

Everything happened as he had foreseen. The Indians, who are extravagantly fond of brandy, were allured by the sight of the kegs, and rushed upon the convoy in the hopes of capturing it.

Don Estevan lost no time. Casting loaves and kegs upon the sand, and retreating at full speed, he brought off his men and mules in the pueblo.

The Indians, dragging their booty into their camp, knocked in the heads of the barrels, and an orgy commenced which lasted till bread and brandy had disappeared.

More than a thousand Indians perished through this ingenious device of the mayor domo's2 the others, smitten with terror, began to disband in all directions.

The exasperated savages, in their first moments of excitement, and in spite of the efforts of their leader, ruthlessly massacred under horrible tortures all the men, women, and children who had fallen into their power at the commencement of the war, and had been kept prisoners in the camp up to the time.

Doña Hermosa herself, notwithstanding the respect with which she had been treated, and the extreme care she took never to leave the toldo, was in great danger of falling a victim to the fury of the Indians. Chance alone saved her.

The great chief resolved to finish the war at once. He despatched El Zopilote to order all the sachems to assemble in his toldo. As soon as they arrived, he announced to them that at the endic'ha (daybreak) on the morrow the presidio would be attacked on all sides at once.

Don Torribio, in his quality of chief, was present at the council. As soon as it was over he hastened to Doña Hermosa's toldo, and demanded an interview.

Since her arrival in the camp, although the Tigercat was perfectly aware of all that was going on between her and Don Torribio, he had purposely avoided meeting her, contenting himself with congratulating the latter on the affection the girl manifested for him. Nevertheless, an acute observer might have easily perceived that the Tigercat harboured some sinister purpose in his mind. Don Torribio, on the contrary, was too much blinded by his passion to attempt to read the countenance of the old bandit.

The intensity of his love, and the zest with which he gave himself up to it, diverted his thoughts from the shame and remorse which stung him when he thought of the infamy attached to his name by his treacherous desertion of his own people to become a member of the ferocious and sanguinary tribes of the Apaches.

Doña Hermosa, on hearing that Don Torribio wished to see her, gave orders for his instant admittance. She was talking at the time with her father. Don Pedro de Luna had hastened to join his daughter the instant he received her letter, and had already been some days in the camp.

The interior of the toldo was greatly changed. Don Torribio had ordered it to be embellished with divers pieces of elegant furniture, stolen by the Indians from different haciendas. Partitions had been constructed, closets contrived, so that the metamorphosis was complete; and, although the exterior remained as it had been before, the inside, in consequence of the alterations, assumed the appearance of a European residence.

Manuela, Doña Hermosa's nurse, had also returned with Don Pedro – a circumstance extremely agreeable to the girl; first, on account of the great confidence she reposed in her; and again, because Manuela was indispensable for all those little services and attentions to which women of rank are accustomed. Besides, the presence of the nurse, who never left Doña Hermosa's side in her interviews with Don Torribio, prevented any exuberant outbreak of passion on his part, and confined him to the limits of a respectful decorum.

Whatever astonishment the redskins might have felt at the alterations in the toldo undertaken by Don Torribio, the veneration and devotion they professed for the Tigercat were so great, that, with the delicacy which seems innate in their race, they pretended to see none of them, especially as the latter had taken no offence at the conduct of the paleface chief. Moreover, as, under all circumstances, the latter rendered them energetic cooperation, being always the foremost in battle and the last to retreat, they thought it right to leave him to arrange his own affairs as he judged best, without any attempt to oppose him.

"Well," said Doña Hermosa, when he entered, "has the Tigercat succeeded in subduing the exasperation of the tribes?"

"Thank Heaven! He has, señorita; but the atrocious crime committed by Major Barnum is unworthy of a man, and more the deed of a savage brute than of a civilized being."

"Perhaps the major is not the author of the crime."

"The whites are accustomed to treat the Indians thus. Have I not heard them assert a thousand times that the redskins are not human beings? All weapons that kill them are lawful, and poison is one of the surest. This crime alone is sufficient to justify me in having quitted the ranks of the monsters."

"Speak no more on this subject, I beseech you; you make me shudder. I am obliged to confess that reason is on your side. When we witness such horrors, we begin to regret that we belong to a race capable of inventing them."

"What is the decision of the council?" asked Don Pedro, in order to turn the conversation.

"Tomorrow, at daybreak, a general assault will be delivered on the presidio."

"Tomorrow!" exclaimed Doña Hermosa, in a fright.

"Yes," he replied; "tomorrow I hope to revenge myself on those who were my brothers, and have forced me to repudiate them. Tomorrow I shall conquer or die."

"God protect the good cause!" said she ambiguously.

"Thanks, cousin," replied Don Torribio, mistaking the meaning of her exclamation.

Don Pedro with difficulty repressed a sigh.

"The action tomorrow will be severe," Don Torribio continued. "I conjure you, señorita, not to leave the toldo. Should we meet with a reverse, no one can tell to what extremes the rage of the Apaches may carry them. I will leave twenty resolute men, vaqueros on whom I can rely, to defend you. As soon as the affair is over, I will send you word."

"Are you going already, Don Torribio?" said she, as she saw him move for the purpose.

"I must, señorita; I am one of the chiefs of the Indian army. In that quality, I have duties to fulfil, and must make preparations for the morrow. I entreat you to let me go."

"Farewell, then, if it must be so."

Bowing respectfully to her and her father, Don Torribio retired.

"All is lost," said Don Pedro; "the Mexicans will never be able to withstand the assault."

Doña Hermosa looked at him with a strange expression, and then whispered in his ear:

"Father, have you read your Bible?"

"Why do you ask, little madcap?"

"Because," said she, with a coaxing smile, "you seem to have forgotten the story of Delilah."

"What!" he exclaimed, more astonished than ever; "Do you intend to cut off his hair?"

"¿Quién sabe?" she answered, shaking her head knowingly, and with a delicious assumption of bravado; while at the same time she put one of her fingers on her rosy lips.

Don Pedro gave the shrug of a man who is utterly at a loss to understand, and who gives up an inexplicable enigma.

CHAPTER XIII.

PALEFACE VERSUS REDSKIN

The redskins in general, and the Apaches in particular, exhibit a surprising degree of craftiness when on the warpath, or preparing for a hazardous expedition. The best troops of the civilized world cannot compete with them in subtlety and wariness, such pains do they take to conceal and dissemble their movements.

Towards three o'clock in the morning, just as the first pearly notes issued from the throats of the mawkawis3 nestled among the leaves, the Tigercat and Don Torribio rose from their beds, armed themselves for the fight, and issued forth from their toldos, followed by several Apache braves, directing their silent and rapid steps towards the centre of the camp, where the sachems of the tribes, crouched on their haunches around an immense brasier, smoked the war calumet while waiting for the great chief.

When the Tigercat appeared, the Indians rose in a body to reverence their leader.

The Tigercat, returning their salute, made them a sign to be seated, and turning to the amantzin, or sorcerer, who stood by his side. "Will the Master of life remain neutral?" he asked. "Will the Wacondah be propitious to the Apache braves? Or will he be adverse to the war his Indian sons, united before the stone atepelt (village) of the palefaces, are going to wage this day against their oppressors?"

"At the bidding of the chiefs," replied the amantzin, "I will question the Master of life."

Then, drawing himself up to his full height, he wrapped his bison robe about him, and thrice paced round the fire, marching from left to right, and muttering words unintelligible to all, and which yet seemed to have a mysterious meaning. At the third round, he poured a coui (a small vessel) of water, sweetened with smilax, into a cup of reeds, plaited so closely that not a drop escaped. Next, having dipped a sprig of wormwood in the coui, he sprinkled the assembled sachems, and emptied the water in three separate portions towards the rising sun.

Then, bending his body forward, with outstretched head and expanded arms, he appeared to listen to sounds perceptible to him alone.

At the end of a few seconds the mawkawis lifted up his song again, on the right of his sorcerer. Immediately his face contorted itself, and grew horrible to look at; his bloodshot eyes seemed ready to start from their orbits; a whitish foam oozed from the corners of his compressed lips; a livid pallor overspread his features; his limbs were convulsed, and his body was agitated by violent distortions.

"The Spirit comes! The Spirit comes!" muttered the Indians, in superstitious terror.

"Silence!" cried the Tigercat; "The wise man is about to speak."

In fact, a painful hissing issued from the distorted mouth of the amantzin, which changed by slow degrees into words, unintelligible at first, but soon pronounced sufficiently distinctly to be understood by all.

"The spirit comes!" he exclaimed; "He has unbound his long locks, which float abroad on the winds. His breath brings annihilation; the heaven are red with blood. Victims will not be wanting for the Wacondah, the spirit of evil. Who can resist him? He alone is master. The knives of the Apaches shall find a sheath in the breasts of the palefaces. The vultures and urubus are glad; they snuff the ample repast. Shout the war cry! Courage, warriors! the Wacondah himself will lead you. Death is nothing; glory is all!"

The amantzin, having uttered a few other unintelligible words, dropped to the ground, a prey to frightful convulsions.

Strange to relate, the men who had up to this time hung suspended on his lips, listening with strained anxiety to his utterances, had now no look or word of pity or interest for him as he lay writhing on the ground, but left him there, without further thought about him. It was because the man rash enough to touch a sorcerer while possessed by the spirit would fall a lifeless corpse: such is the Indian belief.

As soon as the amantzin had ceased speaking, the Tigercat took up the word in his turn.

"Great chiefs of the Apache tribes," said he in a deep voice, "you see that the God of your fathers smiles on our attempt, and encourages it. Let us not hesitate, warriors! Let us confound with one last blow the pride of our oppressors. Our lands are now free; one single spot is still in the power of our tyrants. Let us conquer it today, and at sunset let the Spanish flag, whose fatal shadow has so long been the omen of misery and death, be lowered on our frontiers forever. Courage, brothers! Your ancestors, hunting in the happy prairies, will joyfully welcome those who fall in the battle. Let each repair to the post I have assigned him; the hoarse cry of the urubu, thrice repeated at equal intervals, will give the signal for the assault."