Stoneheart: A Romance

The two men bowed respectfully to the hacendero and separated, but not without having exchanged looks of terrible expression.

"Well, colonel," continued Don Pedro, addressing the governor, in the hopes of glossing over the lamentable altercation, "What news from La Ciudad? Is Mexico still tranquil?"

"Our great Santa Anna," replied the colonel, who was choking in his uniform, "has once more soundly beaten the audacious general who has dared to issue a pronunciamiento (manifesto) against him."

"Thank God! Perhaps this victory will procure us the tranquillity of which commerce stands so much in need."

"Yes," said a rich hacendero, a neighbour of Don Pedro. "Communication has been so difficult of late, that we can forward nothing."

"Are the redskins at work?" asked a merchant, whom these words had troubled.

"No," said the governor; "there is no danger from them. The last lesson they got was a rude one, and they will not forget it. For a long time they have not dared to invade our frontiers."

An almost imperceptible smile curled the lips of Don Fernando. "You forget the Tigercat and his adherents," said he.

"Oh! the Tigercat is only a bandit," said the governor hastily. "Besides, Government is at this moment preparing an expedition against him, so as to finish, once and for all, with his band of brigands."

"It is an admirable idea," said Don Torribio, with a sarcastic sneer. "It is time this frontier should be cleared of the host of fellows, with more than equivocal habits, who infest it."

"I am quite of the same opinion; it seems a most sensible measure," said Don Fernando quietly, but giving back to his adversary a smile as bitter as his own.

"In case of invasion, do you think the Indians able to give the province much trouble?" asked the merchant.

"H'm!" said Don José, with a patronising air; "People entertain exaggerated ideas of these redskins; in fact, they are but miserable wretches."

Don Fernando smiled again; but this time the smile was savage and sinister.

"Señor gobernador," said he, "you are not quite right. To judge by the news you were good enough to communicate, I believe the Indians will keep quite peaceably at home, unless they are determined to tempt ill luck."

"¡Rayo de Dios! I should think so," replied the governor.

"Ah! Señorita," said Don Torribio, gracefully turning to Doña Hermosa, "may I pray of your kindness to let us hear that delicious song from the Domino Noir, which you sang to such perfection a few days ago?"

Doña Hermosa, darted a look from under her long lashes at Don Fernando. The latter's eyes conveyed a mute prayer of entreaty. Without further hesitation, she placed herself at the piano, and, in a pure and feeling voice, sang the romance in the third act.

"I remember having heard that delicious romance sung in Paris by Madame Demareau, that nightingale who flew away too soon," said Don Torribio, bowing gallantly to Doña Hermosa. "I know not whether you or she sang it with most taste and spirit."

She answered: "Cousin, you have lived too long in France."

"How so, señorita?"

"Because," she replied, with a smile as cold and keen as the point of a poniard, "France has made you a detestable flatterer."

"¡Bravo!" chuckled the fat governor, whose cheeks shook with delight. "You see Don Torribio, our creoles rival the Parisian ladies in the smartness of their repartee."

"Incontestably, colonel," answered Don Torribio. "But I can take my own part," he added in an undefinable tone; "I shall soon have my revenge." And he cast a glance at Don Fernando and Doña Hermosa, who were seated close to each other, which made the girl shudder with fear.

"Don Fernando, and you other caballeros, here present," said the governor, addressing the guests, "I hope that tomorrow you will attend the Te Deum to be sung in honour of our glorious Santa Anna."

"I shall have the honour," said Don Fernando. The others made a similar response.

"As for me," said Don Torribio, "you must excuse me, colonel; for business compels me to leave tonight."

"What!" cried Don Pedro, in astonishment; "You are going to travel tonight, cousin?"

"I am indeed, Señor Don Pedro; I am obliged to leave you, even though I have but just arrived."

"Well, that is a singular and most unforeseen resolution. Where are you going?"

"Excuse me if I keep the object of my expedition secret. Certain persons must not have the sole right of making mysterious excursions."

"Indeed!" said Don Pedro peevishly. "And do you intend to stay away long?"

"I hope not, but dare not say I am sure."

"So much the better. Come back to us as soon as you can; for," said he significantly, "your return will please all of us here."

"¿Quién sabe?" (who knows?) muttered Don Torribio, with a sinister expression.

Doña Hermosa, who overheard these two words, could no longer master her fears.

While Don Pedro and his cousin were exchanging these words, the girl Whispered to Don Estevan:

"Brother, tomorrow, after mass, I want to speak to you at my nurse's."

"To me, or to my friend?" said Don Estevan softly.

"To both," she answered, with feverish agitation.

Don Estevan and Don Fernando now retired with joyful hearts. The latter was sure that Doña Hermosa had recognised him.

The other visitors also gradually departed, till Don Torribio de Quiroga was left alone with his host.

"Cousin," said he, in a low and broken voice, as he bent down to the lady to bid her farewell, "I am about to begin a journey in which I shall incur considerable danger. May I hope you will remember the traveller in your prayers?"

Hermosa looked him in the face for an instant, and replied with an austerity unusual in her:

"Cousin, I cannot pray for the success of a journey the purport of which I do not know."

"Thanks for your frankness, señorita," he replied, without exhibiting emotion; "I shall not forget your words."

"So you are really going, Don Torribio?" said Don Pedro, who joined them at the moment.

"This very instant, cousin: all is ready for my departure."

"Then I wish you luck! I hope we shall soon hear from you?"

"Yes," he replied, with a singular expression; "you shall soon hear of me. Farewell!"

"What is the matter with your cousin, niña?" asked Don Pedro, when he found himself alone with his daughter: "His conduct tonight has been very strange."

Before she could answer, the door opened. "The capataz of the Hacienda de las Norias," said a peon who had entered, "wishes to speak to Señor Don Pedro de Luna on affairs of consequence."

"Admit him instantly," replied Don Pedro to the domestic who had announced the arrival of the capataz so pompously.

Don Torribio was terribly agitated when he left the house. He looked back, and cast a venomous eye on the windows of the room, on which he could see the graceful shadow of Doña Hermosa.

"Proud girl," said he in a terrible voice, "I hate you with all the power of the love I once felt for you! Soon, very soon, I will punish you for your disdain."

Then, wrapping his cloak around him, he rapidly took the direction of the nearest patio (out-buildings), where he hoped to find his horse. Indeed, he found him there; a peon holding the bridle. Don Torribio seized the reins, threw the peon a piastre, flung himself into the saddle, and rode off at a gallop.

"Wagh!" said the Indian, picking up the money; "What ails the young master? One would think him mad. How he scampered off!"

In the meantime Don Torribio had left the hacienda behind him, and was making all haste on the road to San Lucar.

But he had not ridden more than a quarter of an hour, when suddenly, at a turn of the road, his horse gave a start of terror, reared, and flew round, with his ears laid close to his head. Don Torribio looked to see what had alarmed the animal.

A man of tall stature, mounted on a strong black horse, held the middle of the road four or five paces in advance of him, and completely barred his passage.

Don Torribio cocked a pistol.

"Holloa, caballero!" he cried in a sharp tone; "Move to the right or the left."

"Neither to one nor the other, Don Torribio de Quiroga. I want to speak to you."

"It is a singular demand at this time of night, and in such a place."

"I did not choose either time or place. Did you not receive a note without a signature today?"

"I did," said Don Torribio, striking his forehead; "and the note proposed – "

"To teach you things," hastily interrupted the stranger, "which it is important you should know at once."

"Those were the words contained in the note."

"It was I who sent it."

"Indeed?" said Don Torribio, surprised; "was it you?"

"Yes; and I am ready to satisfy you; but to do that, you must follow me."

"But what good will it do me to know these matters? Perhaps it would be better to leave them untold."

"As you please; I do not force you to listen to me. Everyone is free to act as he chooses. If you prefer to sit down under insult without avenging yourself, I have no objection."

These words were uttered with such a sneer, that Don Torribio could not help shuddering.

"Do you in truth offer me revenge?" he asked in a voice half stifled with the rage surging at his heart.

"You shall judge, if you will follow me."

"Demon!" cried Don Torribio, "Whoever thou may'st be, lead on, since it must be so! I will follow thee, even unto hell."

"Amen," said the stranger, with a sinister chuckle.

The two riders dashed into the darkness, and the sound of their furious pace was soon merged in profound silence.

CHAPTER V.

THE AMBUSH

Don Fernando and his friend, as we have related, left the hacienda a little before Don Torribio. They had made all haste to reach their dwelling. The tertulia had ended at nine o'clock; and by eleven they were at the rancho.

Doña Manuela was expecting them. In a few words they reported to her all that had happened at the tertulia, and hastened to their couches; for they were obliged to leave again at daybreak, if they wished to arrive in good time at San Lucar without over-fatigueing Doña Manuela, who was to accompany them. In fact, according to agreement, they mounted their horses a little before four in the morning.

In Mexico, on account of the intense heat of the day, people generally travel by night; that is to say, from four in the morning till eleven, and from six in the evening till midnight. Nine o'clock struck as the three entered the presidio. Don Fernando left his friend and the mother to find their way to the house he possessed in San Lucar, which he had placed at their disposal, while he himself repaired to the governor's house, whither affairs of grave importance called him.

The worthy governor overwhelmed the visitor with civilities, – for the latter had, on more than one occasion, rendered him important service, – and seemed unable to show him sufficient courtesy But, in spite of the efforts of his host, Don Fernando perceived that Don José Kalbris was a prey to anxiety, which all his sense of the attentions due to his guest did not enable him wholly to conceal.

Don José Kalbris was a brave and worthy soldier, true as his own steel, to whom the Mexican government had given the charge of the presidio as a recompense for his valiant services during the War of Independence. For fifteen years the colonel had governed the presidio, and, thanks to a certain degree of severity tempered by justice, and to his undoubted courage, had managed to keep it in a state of comparative tranquillity, in spite of the evil passions of the vaqueros– a set of rascals, three or four of whom he was obliged to garrote annually, in order to overawe the rest – and the continual raids of the Indians, who pushed up under the guns of the fort in their attempts to carry off cattle and make prisoners, the latter being their favourite booty, especially women.

Don José, endowed with moderate intelligence, but rich in experience, and warmly supported by the better classes, who had entire confidence in him, had contrived to maintain peace in his province without much difficulty up to the time of which we are now speaking. This denoted a certain strength of character in the old soldier, who was without education, and had made his own career, particularly when one takes into consideration the difficulty of his receiving support from his government; so that he was thrown on his own resources, and obliged to take the initiative, and act on his own responsibility, in all cases where he thought fit to exercise the strong arm of the law.

In person the governor was a tall, stout man with a purple and bloated face, perfectly self-satisfied, fond of hearing himself talk, and who laid great stress on every syllable he uttered.

Don Fernando, well acquainted with the colonel's character, and holding him in great esteem, was astounded at the uneasiness he displayed, and the change from his usual placidity of manner. Fancying that want of money might be at the bottom of his embarrassment, he resolved to sound him, and come to his aid, if that were necessary.

"Holloa!" said the colonel, "What good wind blows you to the presidio so early, Don Fernando?"

"The wish to see you," replied the latter, pressing the hand the colonel extended.

"It is very kind of you. You will breakfast with me, of course?"

"I came to invite myself."

"That is right," said the colonel, striking a bell.

A domestic entered.

"This caballero will do me the honour to breakfast with me."

The servant, a well-trained soldier, disappeared.

"By the bye, Don Fernando, I have a heap of papers here addressed to you."

"Thank Heaven! I was afraid they had been delayed. I want them particularly, for certain reasons."

"So much the better, then," said the colonel, producing the papers, which Don Fernando put into his pocket.

"Breakfast is ready," said the same man who had appeared an instant before.

The governor and his guest proceeded to the breakfast room, where they found a third person waiting for them. This was a Major Barnum, an old Englishman, tall, dry, thin, and formal; as brave a soldier as ever existed; for twenty years in the service of the Mexican Republic; devoted heart and soul to the country of his adoption; and second in command in the presidio of San Lucar.

He and Don José had seen much service together, and were attached to each other like two brothers; resuscitating in this out of the way corner of the world the fables of Castor and Pollux Damon and Pythias, and all the other heroes of ancient friendship.

Don Fernando and Major Barnum were slightly acquainted with each other, and glad of the meeting; for the Englishman was an excellent fellow, and hid a warm and loyal heart under his rather cold manner.

After the usual greetings, all three placed themselves at table, and commenced a vigorous attack on the delicacies with which the board was abundantly supplied.

When the first keen relish of appetite had been appeased, the conversation became more lively, and at the close of the meal grew quite amicable and confidential.

"By the bye, what is the matter with you, Don José?" said Don Fernando. "There is something odd about you today, which I have never seen before."

"Right," said the governor, draining a glass of Jerez de la Frontera (sherry); "I feel sad."

"You sad! You astonish me. If I had not noticed your appetite at breakfast, I should think you were ill."

"Well," said the soldier, with a sigh, "my appetite is good."

"Then what is there to vex you?"

"I have a presentiment of evil," said the governor, seriously.

"A presentiment of evil!" echoed the major. "I know that at first sight it seems ridiculous for old soldiers like ourselves to attach importance to such folly, which is only, at the best, the result of a diseased imagination. Nevertheless, I too feel like the colonel: I am uneasy without knowing why; I expect every moment to receive evil tidings. In two words, I am firmly convinced some great danger is impending. I feel it, I know it, without being able to guess whence it is to come."

"Ah," said the governor, "the major has just described my own sensations. Long as my career as a soldier has been, I have never felt so anxious and oppressed as now. I have been in this state of excitement a whole week, and am astonished nothing has happened to justify my forebodings. Don Fernando, God does give warnings of danger to man."

"I do not deny the truth of what you propound. I know you too well to have the least intention to question your conviction. But still, how is it to be accounted for? You and Major Barnum are not men to be afraid of a shadow, or easily scared; you have proved that a thousand times. Has nothing occurred to confirm your presentiment?"

"Nothing as yet," replied the governor; "but I momentarily expect bad news."

"Come, come, Don José!" said Don Fernando gravely; "you are suffering from an attack of a malady very common in the major's country, where they call it 'the blue devils.' It is a kind of spleen, caused by the fogs in England. Listen to me: get yourself bled – do not spare the wine cup; and in a couple of days you will be the first to laugh at the trick your fancy has played you. Do you not think so, major?"

"I wish it were so," said that officer, shaking his head.

"Pooh!" said Don Fernando; "Life is short enough already. What is the use of creating bugbears to frighten ourselves? And besides, who is there to give you trouble?"

"¿Quién sabe? We are never sure of anything on the frontiers."

"Nonsense! The Indians have grown as quiet as lambs."

Just then a servant opened the door, and beckoned to the governor.

"What do you want?" said the latter.

"Señor," replied the servant, "a vaquero, just arrived in all haste, requests an audience. He is the bearer of important intelligence."

This announcement fell like a sheet of ice on the three caballeros, and thoroughly stopped the flow of their fictitious gaiety.

"Let him come in," said the colonel.

Then casting a look of inconceivable sadness on Don Fernando, he added:

"It is fate herself who undertakes to answer you!"

"We shall see!" replied Don Fernando with a forced smile.

Heavy footsteps were heard in the adjacent apartments, and the vaquero entered.

It was Pablito.

The man had indeed the look of one who brings bad news. He seemed to have just left the battlefield – to have escaped from a massacre. His clothes hung in rags, stained with mud and gore; his face, pale as death, had an expression of sadness very strange in such a man. It was with difficulty he held himself upright, so dreadfully jaded he seemed by the struggle he had had to reach the presidio. His spurs left a bloody mark on the floor at every step; and he was forced to support himself on his rifle.

The three men looked at him with mingled fear and pity.

"Here," said Don Fernando, pouring out a tumbler of wine; "drink this; it will restore you."

"No!" said Pablito, thrusting back the glass; "I thirst for blood, not wine!"

These words were uttered in such a tone of hatred and despair, that the listeners involuntarily turned pale, and shuddered with horror.

"What has happened?" said the colonel, in deep anxiety.

The vaquero wiped the cold sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and said, in short, sharp accents, which struck terror into his hearers:

"The Indians are upon us!"

"Have you seen them?" asked the major.

"Yes," said he abruptly; "I have seen them."

"When was that – today?"

"This very morning, colonel."

"Far from hence?"

"About twenty leagues. They have already crossed the Rio del Norte."

"Already! How many are there? Do you know."

"Count the sand grains in the desert, and you will know."

"God!" said the colonel; "it is impossible. The Indians cannot assemble in such numbers in the course of a day. Your fears have deceived you."

"Fears!" said Pablito, laughing derisively. "Fear is very well for you who live in towns; in the wilderness we have no time to make her acquaintance."

"Well, then, how are they coming?"

"Like a tornado, burning and pillaging as they come."

"Is it their intention to attack the presidio?"

"They have formed an immense half moon, the two horns of which are nearing you every moment."

"Are they still a good way off?"

"Yes; for they are acting on a preconceived plan, establishing themselves firmly in places capable of defence, and apparently not governed by the sole instinct of pillage; but, as it would seem, obeying the directions of a chief who understands the art of war, and whose influence is felt in all their movements."

"This looks serious," said the governor.

The major shook his head.

"Why have you waited so long before you warned us?" said he.

"This morning, at daybreak, my comrades and I were surrounded by more than two hundred of these demons, who seemed to rise out of the ground. We defended ourselves like lions: one is dead; two of us are wounded, but we managed to escape; and here I am."

"Get back to your post as soon as possible; they shall give you a fresh horse."

"I will be off directly, colonel."

The vaquero saluted and left them. Five minutes later, they heard his horse's hoofs clattering over the stony road.

"Well," said the colonel, looking at the two others; "what did I tell you? Did my forebodings lie?"

Don Fernando rose.

"Where are you going?" asked the colonel.

"Back to the Hacienda del Cormillo."

"At once! Without finishing your breakfast?"

"This instant. I am torn by indescribable anxiety. The Indians may attack the hacienda; and God knows what may happen."

"El Cormillo is fortified, and cannot be taken by a coup-de-main. However, I think Doña Hermosa would be safer here. Try, if there is time, to induce Don Pedro to return: no one can foresee the issue of an invasion undertaken on such a scale; and one cannot take too many precautions. I should be glad to see Don Pedro and his daughter safe among us."

"Thank you, colonel; your advice is excellent. I will use every effort to induce Don Pedro to follow it. Good-bye. I venture to flatter myself that an energetic demonstration on your part will rid us of these ferocious foes, whose tactics are always to attempt a surprise, and who disappear as suddenly as they came the moment they find their plans have been discovered."

"God grant it! But I scarcely hope as much." "Farewell, caballeros, and good luck!" said Don Fernando, pressing the hands of the two old soldiers.

Don Estevan was waiting for him in the court, and joined him as soon as he appeared.

"Well," said the mayor domo, "you have heard the news? The Indians are coming like the locusts."

"Yes; I have heard so."

"What do you intend to do?"

"To return to the hacienda at once."

"H'm! That would be scarcely prudent. You know how speedily these demons spread themselves over all the country; we should most likely meet some of them."

"Well! We will ride over their corpses."

"¡Canarios! I dare say. But you may be killed."

"Pooh! Doña Hermosa expects me; and I am not killed yet."

"True; but you may be."

"Well, we shall see."

"Probably so. However, as I foresaw the objections you would make, I have arranged everything to go. The horses are ready saddled, the peones in waiting: we will set off as soon as you choose."

"Thanks, Estevan; you are really a friend."

"I know it," said the latter, with a gay smile. Estevan Diaz whistled shrilly, and the peones entered the court, leading two horses by their bridles.

"Let us be off," said Don Fernando, springing into the saddle.

"Let us be off," repeated Don Estevan.

They gave the horses their heads, and began to push their way slowly through the crowd of idlers assembled before the gates of the fortress to learn the latest news, and trotted down the steep incline leading from the fort to the old presidio, replying, as well as they could, to the questions with which they were assailed on all sides. As soon as they had threaded the town, they increased their speed along the road to the Hacienda del Cormillo, without noticing the repeated signals of several more than suspicious-looking individuals, carefully wrapped in thick cloaks, who had followed them at a distance since they left the fort, talking eagerly the while to each other.