Chapter 20

"Please proceed, Miss Van Ashton," he replied. Amazed and bewildered, Bessie excitedly resumed the reading of the strange letter.

"'My sister never knew me because I left home shortly after she was born; but, notwithstanding, I recognized her the instant I set eyes on her, not only owing to the presence of my father that day, but to the remarkable resemblance she bears to my mother. She is the living image of her.'" Bessie paused, overcome with agitation.

"How very remarkable," she said, as if to herself. "Every one who knew my mother says we resemble one another very closely in manner as well as in looks. My father always keeps our photographs placed side by side on his desk at home. Except for the difference in the style of dress, it is almost impossible to tell which is which. What he says does sound true," she admitted. "Yet--"

"There can be no doubt of it," broke in Dick. Again Bessie looked down at the papers and resumed:

"'Before I breathe my last, Dick, I want to tell you that I have discovered the lead to the old Esmeralda mine; the enclosed chart will guide you to it. Tell my sister that half of it belongs to her and the other half to Pepita's child if you are able to find her. Perhaps this one and only generous act of my selfish life will atone somewhat for my many misdeeds. Good-by, Dick, and God bless you.'"

"You needn't read that!" he interrupted. But without heeding him, she continued:

"'You are the best and bravest fellow alive. Good-by, Dick, again, for the last time.

"'Harry Van Ashton, better known to the world as Bob Carlton, gambler and--'" The letter ended abruptly. A sob broke from Bessie. Two bright tears glistened like jewels in the moonlight on her long lashes and then stole silently down her cheeks.

"Don't take it so hard, Miss Van Ashton," he said. "Your brother was wild, but not so bad as the world thought him."

"My poor brother!" she murmured.

"I am sure," he resumed after a little, "that when your brother looked into your eyes that day, his manhood reasserted itself; that he repented and threw off his past life like an old garment, and from that moment, stood prepared to enter the presence of his Maker."

"You are very good to say that," she answered, looking up at him with shining eyes.

"No, it's not good of me at all," he returned. "I love you too much to say anything but what I know to be true." She did not reply, but remained lost in thought, her eyes cast on the ground.

"Bessie!" he exclaimed passionately, drawing nearer to her. "Why do you hesitate? You know that I understand you better than any one else ever could. You know you love me!" She knew her moment had come; that she must answer him for all time, and strive as she would, she could not conceal her confusion. He did not know how intense was the struggle going on within her, nor realize what it meant to her to give up the life she had known always.

"And what if I told you," she said at length, her eyes still downcast, "that I care more for you than anything else in this world, Dick?" pronouncing his name aloud for the first time. "What would you say then?"

"That I will love you for all time, Sweetheart! That I will make you the happiest woman in the world!" he cried, his arms closing about her, and kissing her full on the lips.

"When we are married," he said at last, "we'll start in search of the Esmeralda, the famous old Spanish mine that was destroyed by the earthquake, and if, as your brother said, he really found the lead again, you and Don Felipe's child will be the two richest women in Chihuahua."

"Then let it be soon, Dick!" she answered. "Oh! I know I've been perfectly horrid!" she cried, flinging her arms about his neck in a fresh outburst, and kissing him again and again. "But I'll make it up to you, Dick! I'll show you how Bessie Van Ashton can love!" There was another long silence, during which each could hear the beating of the other's heart. Then looking up with a pained, disheartened expression on her face, she said: "I'm sorry I can't come to you with a fortune, Dick. My father will cast me off, and all I now possess in this world are you and the clothes on my back."

"Why, you sweet, pathetic little beggar!" he exclaimed, sealing her lips with a kiss.

"He said he would rather see me dead at his feet than married to you," she went on. "Of course, if you were immensely wealthy, he might learn to tolerate you in time. We're all like that, you know, but as things are, we'll have to shift as best we can."

"Well, I don't lay claim to much," he said, restraining his mirth with difficulty. "There's the Esmeralda, you know, but even if that fails us, there's no cause for immediate worry. We'll find a modest little hovel somewhere that is large enough to contain our love." And then he laughed long and loud, laughed as he had never laughed before.

"What are you laughing at?" she inquired, with a dawning suspicion that he was keeping something from her.

"Oh, nothing," he answered at length. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure, when I say, that I can't help thinking what an ass your father is!" And Bessie Van Ashton stepped into a bigger life than she had ever known.

XXXV

Perhaps all was not yet lost. The Padre's words and attitude acted like a wonderful elixir upon Chiquita. They buoyed her up, lifted her soul from the dust where it had been flung and trampled upon.

The house oppressed her, and sleep being impossible, she opened the door and stepped out into the garden and wandered along the paths that led in and out among the flowers and shrubs, inhaling the delicious night air, faintly perfumed with the delicate fragrance of mignonette and heliotrope and a few last roses.

The fresh air and the beauty and quiet of the night soothed her. She felt her strength return, and a great calm took possession of her as she moved to and fro in the moonlight, now casting her eyes toward the stars, now downward at the wan, drooping heads of the flowers which swayed gently in the faint night breeze. Her face radiantly beautiful, her jewels flashing against the pale white setting of her dress and her tawny skin, she resembled more the lovely ghost of some long-departed Spanish woman that had returned to earth to revisit familiar haunts, than one still among the living.

What was he doing now? she asked herself. It was impossible that he should continue to believe in her. It was more than could be expected; no one but Padre Antonio was capable of that. Just then she heard the sound of footsteps on the walk outside the wall and a moment later, the click of the latch on the gate as it swung open. She thought it must be Padre Antonio come back again, and she turned to meet him. A faint, suppressed cry escaped her, for there, just inside the gate, stood Captain Forest.

He had evidently not yet seen her and paused as if uncertain whether to advance. She stood in the open space beside the bench, just off the pathway leading from the gate to the house, along which he must advance should he decide to proceed farther. A pale, plumy spray of tamarisk intervened between them, otherwise he must have seen her. For some time he stood silent and motionless as if uncertain what to do, then he began to advance slowly in her direction.

What did he want? Why had he come at this hour? Her heart beat high and she began to tremble with excitement as she watched him coming toward her.

Her wan, pale dress so closely resembled the moonlight in the shadow of the tamarisk that he might have passed her unnoticed had she not unconsciously closed her half-open fan which she was nervously clasping in both hands. It shut with a soft, faint snap, causing him to stop and turn in her direction.

"Chiquita!" he cried, and springing forward, had her in his arms before she could prevent it.

"No, no; you must not!" she cried, overcome by his suddenness and vainly struggling to free herself.

"Chiquita," he went on without heeding her, "I could not wait until morning, and came to tell you again that I believe in you--that I love you--that nothing but death can separate us in this life!"

She saw and felt the uselessness of struggling against his great strength and will, so she relaxed her efforts and became quite passive in his arms, her face cast down. Besides, it seemed as though all her strength had left her. She trembled so violently and felt so weak that she must have sunk to the ground had he not supported her.

"Sweetheart!" he cried more passionately than ever. "What do we care for the world? Look up and say you will come with me!" Her soul thrilled with the rapture his words caused her.

"Jack," she said at length, raising her head and looking up into his face, "I love you too much to do that. Not until my name has been cleared--" They heard a rustling sound on the other side of the tamarisk. Another moment, and the long, plumy sprays parted and Don Felipe stepped into the pathway. His face was ashen pale and wore the look of a thoroughly desperate man.

"Captain Forest," he began, breaking the painful silence that ensued, "I have vowed that you shall never marry her. I give you one more chance," and he raised his right arm and pointed toward the gate. "Go, while there is yet time!" he commanded, his voice vibrant with passion. "Go back to the _Posada_ at once and saddle your horse and leave the country this very night. If you do not--"

"You think to intimidate me?" interrupted the Captain, quietly releasing Chiquita from his arms and confronting him.

"Once more--will you go?" demanded Don Felipe in a harsh, fierce voice.

"No!" answered the Captain.

"Then your blood be upon your own head!" he cried, and without a moment's warning, he drew a long knife from his inner breast pocket and rushed furiously upon him.

"Coward, to attack an unarmed man!" cried the Captain, springing aside just in time to avoid his thrust. Without replying, Don Felipe whirled with the swiftness of a cat and rushed at him again. The Captain glanced hurriedly about him in search of some weapon of defense. Close at hand he espied a small, fragile, gilt chair that had been left there by chance during the day. Seizing it by the back with both hands he raised it aloft and aimed a swift blow at his adversary, but the latter cleverly dodged it by dropping on one knee. The chair crashed to the ground with terrific force, its fragments flying in all directions.

Captain Forest was a wonderfully active man for his size. Before Don Felipe was on his feet again, he sprang forward and seized his right arm. The two men grappled desperately for some moments, but what was Don Felipe in the hands of a giant. Suddenly the knife went whirling back over the Captain's shoulder, forming a glittering half-circle in the moonlight as it fell among the flowers. Then Captain Forest lifted Don Felipe with both hands as easily as he would have lifted a child and hurled him violently to the ground several feet away. A smothered cry of pain escaped him.

"Lie there, dog!" said the Captain, contemptuously.

"Not so, Captain Forest--we're not done yet!" answered Don Felipe, rising with difficulty on one knee. From his hip pocket he drew a pistol.

"Don Felipe Ramirez!" came Chiquita's voice, ringing clear; but he did not heed the warning. Instantly her hand went to her breast and there were two almost simultaneous shots. Don Felipe sprang into the air with a loud cry, alighting upright upon both feet. He gasped, staggered forward a pace, and then sank down on his knees. Again he gasped, clutched desperately at his heart with his left hand, and then, with a last supreme effort, slowly raised his weapon with his trembling hand and once more took aim at the Captain. There was another quick flash and report, and Don Felipe Ramirez lay dead on the ground between them.

In silence they gazed at one another across Don Felipe's body. The Captain was about to speak when they were startled by a low moan just behind them, and, turning, they saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench in a sitting posture, her head resting on her arm across the back of the bench. In an instant they were at her side.

"Blanch!" cried the Captain in consternation at the sight of the blood that was oozing slowly from her left side, and which Chiquita was vainly endeavoring to stanch with her handkerchief. At the sound of his voice, she slowly opened her eyes.

"Forgive me," she whispered in an almost inaudible tone, as they knelt on either side of her, supporting her. For some moments she lay quite motionless, then a slight tremor passed through her and with a little sigh like that of a child's, her head slipped down upon Chiquita's breast. The bullet which Don Felipe had intended for the Captain had passed through her heart; the penalty she paid for giving the signal in the _patio_.

The moonlight fell full across her face, which, contrary to what one might suppose, wore an expression of peace and calm, almost a smile, like one in a dream.

"How beautiful she is!" murmured Chiquita, holding her tenderly in her arms.

"Would to God she had been spared!" answered the Captain, his voice choking with emotion. Yet each felt as they gazed on her upturned face, whose expression was rather that of sleep than of death, that she was better off thus; for what did life hold for her?

XXXVI

For most men death ends all things, but for those whose souls are illumined by the unquenchable flame of faith, death is but the beginning of life.

The news of the tragedy, following swift upon that of Juan Ramon's death, spread like wildfire, fairly taking the people's breath away, and throwing the community into a tumult of excitement. Not since the days when the victorious American armies had entered Mexico and laid waste the land, had there been such a commotion in the old town.

The community was shaken to its center. What would happen next? Old women paused in the midst of their chatter and, crossing themselves, said an extra _ave_ as a protection against the Evil One; for no one knew who would be taken next.

Don Felipe Ramirez, the handsomest and wealthiest and most influential man in Chihuahua, dead--at the hand of a woman--an Indian!

Most people admitted that he had merited death. That his end was a just punishment for his misdeeds, but then, had it not been for the woman who had wrecked his life, how different his end might have been!

Juan Ramon would be missed for a day at the gaming tables, but the beautiful American Señorita--why should she have paid the price of blood? It was too much. The popular outburst was tremendous, quite beyond Padre Antonio's influence or control. The evil and tragedy which the witch seemed to draw with her in her train far outweighed the good she had accomplished since her advent in the town. And if the grand Señor, Captain Forest, of an alien race, still chose to remain in the place, why, let him look to his personal safety if he still set store upon his life.

Such was popular sentiment, and out of the countless maledictions that were heaped upon the dark woman and the man she had bewitched, there grew that sullen and ominous silence of presentiment like that preceding a storm, and which boded but one end to them both--death.

José and Dick were the first to apprise the Captain of the true state of affairs, although he had not remained insensible to the threatening looks and dark, sullen faces that greeted him on every hand.

"The place has become too hot to hold you, old man," said Dick. "You and Chiquita had better go somewhere for a little _pasear_. You'll find the air in the mountains more salubrious than here; in fact--_vamos_, as the Spaniards say. Go to Padre Antonio's house at once," he continued. "It's a sort of a sanctuary, you know; you'll be safe there to-day. If you value your life, don't set foot outside the place, and I'd even be chary about picking flowers in the garden," he added in his droll way. "To-night, José and I will have your horses ready and waiting for you in the cañon at the foot of the trail which leads to the top of the _mesa_ overlooking the valley. You must get away under cover of the dusk before the moon rises. Old Manuela will give you the signal when to depart."

"Dick, you are the most ingenious mortal in the world," answered the Captain. "You are as good as a mother to me. How did you ever think of it?"

"Oh! don't thank me," returned Dick. "I didn't think of it; I never have any ideas. It's José's plan entirely."

"The deuce! It does sound like you, _camarada_!" he ejaculated, turning to José who had smoked his _cigarillo_ in silence while listening to Dick's words. "The scheme sounds well," he continued after some moments' reflection. "And yet it seems to me you have overlooked something--the most important thing of all."

"What?" asked Dick.

"How are you going to get the horses there without attracting attention? It's just possible that the entire populace might escort you there and then hang all four of us when Chiquita and I arrive."

"Ah! I never thought of that," replied Dick, flicking the ash from his cigar and exchanging glances with José. "I always said you had the imagination of a poet, Jack. But it takes an Indian to think of such things; the horses are concealed already in the cañon, a quarter of a mile from the trail."

"_Si, Capitan._ I took them there last night," said José.

"Last night?"

"Yes. You see, it was this way. I saw the fight last night--"

"You did?"

"_Si, Capitan._ It was a glorious fight, the greatest fight I ever saw. I followed Don Felipe last night and surely would have killed him had I not seen the Señorita draw her weapon. I knew that it was her right to kill him."

"You observe José's exquisite sense of discrimination," interrupted Dick. "It's the etiquette of the land," he added with a twinkle in his eye, his face betraying not so much as the suggestion of a smile. Captain Forest could have laughed at Dick's irresistible humor were it not for the terrible tragedy which rested heavily upon him.

"Well," continued José, "while you and the Señorita stood beside the beautiful _Americana_, I bethought me that it was about time we were leaving this place. You did not know that the two women, Manuela and Juana, and the Padre's gardener, Sebastiano, also witnessed the shooting. I told Sebastiano to get the Señorita's horse out of the stable at once and wait outside in the shadow of the wall on the far side of the garden until I returned. I then hurried back here and got away unobserved with our horses, picking up the Señorita's and Sebastiano on the way to the cañon where I left them in the latter's charge. They will hardly be missed to-day, I think," he added; "the excitement is too great. Go now quietly to Padre Antonio's and wait there until Manuela gives you the word to depart." José paused. Then casting a quick glance about him, he took a fresh puff at his _cigarillo_ and said: "Until then, _á Dios_, Señor _Capitan_!" and assuming an indifferent air, as though nothing unusual had occurred, he sauntered quietly away.

"That man's a genius!" said Dick, looking after him until he disappeared around the corner of the house.

"It was a lucky day for you when you picked him up. If you get away at all to-night, you'll owe your lives to him. Nothing but his wits could have saved you. You had better be going now," he added. "Go directly to the Padre's and attract as little attention as possible on the way.

"_Este noche, amigo mio_--to-night, my friend," he concluded in Spanish, and turning, lounged carelessly through the doorway into the house.

XXXVII

"I hear nothing," said José, rising from the ground where he had been lying flat with his ear close to the earth.

"They have given us up!" exclaimed the Captain, turning in the saddle and addressing Chiquita who also had been scanning their back trail in the effort to discover a sign of their lost pursuers.

"We have tired them out," she answered, lowering her hand from her eyes.

They had escaped--they were free. Padre Antonio had married them on the afternoon of the previous day.

"If I am still alive, and God grant that it may be so," he said on parting, "I shall see you next spring when I visit the Missions in the North."

The flight had been a swift and perilous one. They had traveled the entire night and day, pausing only long enough to allow their horses short breathing spells and time to slake their thirst at the springs and streams they encountered in their flight. Like their horses, all three were thoroughly tired, and their clothes torn and dust begrimed.

"We'll camp yonder, José," said the Captain, pointing to a thick group of pines that grew on the opposite side of the stream on whose bank they had halted. They had arrived at the foot of the Sierra Madres from whose side the stream burst and along whose banks their trail led to the upper world where it dropped down again on the other side of the great mountainous divide into Sonora.

"It's like the old days!" cried Chiquita, laughing as they splashed through the stream to the opposite bank, the water rising to their saddle-girths. Drawing rein at the outer rim of the pines, they dismounted and removed their saddles and packs, the latter consisting of a pair of blankets apiece and a week's rations equally distributed among them; coffee, sugar, bacon, beans and flour and a few necessary utensils. These they carried into the center of the grove and deposited in a circle on the ground.

José led away the horses and while he was occupied in picketing them, the Captain gathered an armful of dry wood for the fire, and then picking up a canvas bucket, strolled to the river and filled it with water.

Chiquita had already lit the fire when he returned. She filled the coffee pot with water, cut some slices of bacon and tossed them into a pan which she placed on the fire and then began to mix some flour and water. The Captain leaned against the trunk of one of the trees and rolling a cigarette, lit it, watching her the while. Chiquita laughed softly, but said nothing while engaged in the process of bread-making. This homely touch of camp-life told plainer than words how thoroughly they had come down to earth and again were facing the wholesome realities of life. When the dough was of the right consistency, she molded it into biscuits, placed them in a deep pan, and raking some coals from the fire, set the pan upon them, also depositing some coals on the top of the cover. After giving the bacon a final turn in the pan, she set it to one side close to the fire where it would keep warm.

She then rose to her feet and stood erect. As she did so, one of the great strands of her hair which had become loosened during their flight, fell in a soft curling mass of blue jet down her back to within a few inches of her ankles. Captain Forest did not know then that it was a sign of her royal lineage.

Once upon a time in the dim past, so far back that nobody could remember when it had occurred, a Tewana woman had given birth to a beautiful girl child with wonderful hair in the same year that a wandering star with a great tail had appeared in the heavens. The coincidence seemed nothing short of miraculous to the people. The Sachems of the tribe pronounced the child to be consecrated and chosen to rule over them by the gods. So it had been decreed, and ever since then, all Tewana women who had ruled over the people had possessed this distinctive mark of their royal lineage and bore the name, "Flaming Star."

Chiquita crossed over to where the Captain still stood leaning against the tree and, pausing before him, looked up into his face and said: "What are you thinking of, Sweetheart?" He flung his arms about her and kissed her.

"I am still wondering," he answered, "how it all happened. It seems so strange, and yet so natural."