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The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico
“By Heaven! this is a piece of luck! Who ever failed to catch a fool when love was his lure? This very night, too, and at midnight! I shall have time to prepare. Oh! if I but knew the place! ’Tis not given here.”
Again he read over the note.
“Carajo, no! that is unfortunate. What’s to be done? I must not go guessing in the dark! Ha! I have it! She shall be watched! – watched to the very spot! Vicenza can do that while we lie somewhere in ambush. The girl can bring us to it. We shall have time to surround them. Their interview will last long enough for that. We shall take them in the very moment of their bliss. Hell and furies! to think of it – this low dog – this butcher of buffaloes – to thwart me in my purposes! But patience, Roblado! patience! to-night – to-night! – ”
A knocking at the door. Sergeant Gomez was admitted.
“Gomez, get ready twenty of your men! picked fellows, do you hear? Be ready by eleven o’clock. You have ample time, but see that you be ready the moment I call you. Not a word to any one without. Let the men saddle up and be quiet about it. Load your carbines. There’s work for you. You shall know what it is by and by. Go! get ready!”
Without saying a word, the sergeant went off to obey the order.
“Curses on the luck! if I but knew the place, or anything near it. Would it be about the house? or in the garden? Maybe outside – in the country somewhere? That is not unlikely. He would hardly venture so near the town, lest some one might recognise him or his horse. Death to that horse. No, no! I shall have that horse yet, or I much mistake. Oh! if I could find this place before the hour of meeting, then my game were sure. But no, nothing said of the place – yes, the old place. Hell and furies! they have met before – often – often – oh!”
A groan of agony broke from the speaker, and he paced to and fro like one bereft of his senses.
“Shall I tell Vizcarra now,” he continued, “or wait till it is over? I shall wait. It will be a dainty bit of news along with supper. Perhaps I may garnish the table with the ears of the cibolero. Ha! ha! ha!”
And uttering a diabolical laugh, the ruffian took down his sabre and buckled the belt around his waist. He then armed himself with a pair of heavy pistols; and, after looking to the straps of his spurs, strode out of the room.
Chapter Forty Four
It wanted but an hour of midnight. There was a moon in the sky, but so near the horizon, that the bluff bounding the southern side of the valley threw out a shadow to the distance of many yards upon the plain.
Parallel to the line of the cliffs, and close in to their base, a horseman could be seen advancing up the valley from the lower end of the settlement. His cautious pace, and the anxious glances which he at intervals cast before him, showed that he was travelling with some apprehension, and was desirous of remaining unseen. It was evident, too, that this was his object in keeping within the shadow of the cliff; for on arriving at certain points where the precipice became slanting and cast no shadow, he would halt for a while, and, after carefully reconnoitring the ground, pass rapidly over it. Concealment could be his only object in thus closely hugging the bluffs, for a much better road could have been found at a little distance out from them.
After travelling for many miles in this way, the horseman at length arrived opposite the town, which still, however, was three miles distant from the cliff. From this point a road led off to the town, communicating between it and a pass up the bluffs to the left.
The horseman halted, and gazed awhile along the road, as if undecided whether to take it or not. Having resolved in the negative, he moved on, and rode nearly a mile farther under the shadow of the bluffs. Again he halted, and scanned the country to his right. A bridle-path seemed to run in the direction of the town, or towards a point somewhat above it. After a short examination the horseman seemed to recognise this path as one he was in search of, and, heading his horse into it, he parted from the shadow of the bluffs, and rode out under the full moonlight. This, shining down upon him, showed a young man of fine proportions, dressed in ranchero costume, and mounted upon a noble steed, whose sleek black coat glittered under the silvery light. It was easy to know the rider. His bright complexion, and light-coloured hair curling thickly under the brim of his sombrero, were characteristics not to be mistaken in that land of dark faces. He was Carlos the cibolero. It could be seen now that a large wolf-like dog trotted near the heels of the horse. That dog was Cibolo.
Advancing in the direction of the town, the caution of the horseman seemed to increase.
The country before him was not quite open. It was level; but fortunately for him, its surface was studded with copse-like islands of timber, and here and there straggling patches of chapparal through, which the path led. Before entering these the dog preceded him, but without noise or bark; and when emerging into the open plain again, the horseman each time halted and scanned the ground that separated him from the next copse, before attempting to pass over it.
Proceeding in this way, he arrived at length within several hundred yards of the outskirts of the town, and could see the walls, with the church cupola shining over the tops of the trees. One line of wall on which his eyes were fixed lay nearer than the rest. He recognised its outline. It was the parapet over the house of Don Ambrosio – in the rear of which he had now arrived.
He halted in a small copse of timber, the last upon the plain. Beyond, in the direction of Don Ambrose’s house, the ground was open and level up to the bank of the stream already described as running along the bottom of the garden. The tract was a meadow belonging to Don Ambrosio, and used for pasturing the horses of his establishment. It was accessible to these by means of a rude bridge that crossed the stream outside the walls of the garden. Another bridge, however, joined the garden itself to the meadow. This was much slighter and of neater construction – intended only for foot-passengers. It was, in fact, a mere private bridge, by which the fair daughter of Don Ambrosio could cross to enjoy her walk in the pleasant meadow beyond. Upon this little bridge, at its middle part, was a gate with lock and key, to keep intruders from entering the precincts of the garden.
This bridge was not over three hundred yards from the copse in which Carlos had halted, and nothing intervened but the darkness to prevent him from having a view of it. However, as the moon was still up, he could distinctly see the tall posterns, and light-coloured palings of the gate, glimmering in her light. The stream he could not see – as at this point it ran between high banks – and the garden itself was hidden from view by the grove of cotton-woods and china-trees growing along its bottom.
After arriving in the copse Carlos dismounted; and having led his horse into the darkest shadow of the trees, there left him. He did not tie him to anything, but merely rested the bridle over the pommel of the saddle, so that it might not draggle upon the ground. He had long ago trained the noble animal to remain where he was placed without other fastening than this.
This arrangement completed, he walked forward to the edge of the underwood, and there stood with his eyes fixed upon the bridge and the dark grove beyond it. It was not the first time for him to go through all the manoeuvres here described – no, not by many – but, perhaps, on no other occasion were his emotions so strong and strange as on the present.
He had prepared himself for the interview he was now expecting – he had promised himself a frankness of speech his modesty had never before permitted him to indulge in – he had resolved on proposals – the rejection or acceptance of which might determine his future fate. His heart beat within his breast so as to be audible to his own ears.
Perfect stillness reigned through the town. The inhabitants had all retired to their beds, and not a light appeared from door or window. All were close shut and fast bolted. No one appeared in the streets, except the half-dozen “serenos” who formed the night-watch of the place. These could be seen muffled up in their dark cloaks, sitting half asleep on the banquetas of houses, and grasping in one hand their huge halberds, while their lanterns rested upon the pavement at their feet.
Perfect stillness reigned around the mansion of Don Ambrosio. The great gate of the zaguan was closed and barred, and the portero had retired within his “lodge,” thus signifying that all the inmates of the dwelling had returned home. If silence denoted sleep, all were asleep; but a ray of light escaping through the silken curtains of a glass door, and falling dimly upon the pavement of the patio, showed that one at least still kept vigil. That light proceeded from the chamber of Catalina.
All at once the stillness of the night was broken by the loud tolling of a bell. It was the clock of the parroquia announcing the hour of midnight.
The last stroke had not ceased to reverberate when the light in the chamber appeared to be suddenly extinguished – for it no longer glowed through the curtain.
Shortly after, the glass door was silently opened from the inside; and a female form closely muffled came forth, and glided with stealthy and sinuous step around the shadowy side of the patio. The tall elegant figure could not be hidden by the disguise of the ample cloak in which it was muffled, and the graceful gait appeared even when constrained and stealthy. It was the Señorita herself.
Having passed round the patio, she entered the avenue that led to the garden. Here a heavy door barred the egress from the house, and before this she stopped. Only a moment. A key appeared from under her cloak, and the large bolt with some difficulty yielded to her woman’s strength. It did not yield silently. The rusty iron sounded as it sprang back into the lock, causing her to start and tremble. She even returned back through the avenue, to make sure whether any one had heard it; and, standing in the dark entrance, glanced round the patio. Had she not heard a door closing as she came back? She fancied so; and alarmed by it, she stood for some time gazing upon the different doors that opened upon the court. They were all close shut, her own not excepted, for she had closed it on coming out. Still her fancy troubled her, and, but half satisfied, she returned to the gate.
This she opened with caution, and, passing through, traversed the rest of the avenue, and came out in the open ground. Keeping under the shadow of the trees and shrubbery, she soon reached the grove at the bottom of the garden. Here she paused for a moment, and, looking through the stems of the trees, scanned the open surface in the direction of the copse where Carlos had halted.
No object was visible but the outlines of the timber island itself, under whose shadow a human form in dark clothing could not have been recognised at such a distance.
After pausing a moment she glided among the trees of the grove, and the next moment stood, upon the centre and highest point of the bridge in front of the little gate. Here she again stopped, drew from under her cloak a white cambric handkerchief, and, raising herself to her full height, held it spread out between her hands.
The air was filled with fire-flies, whose light sparkled thickly against the dark background of the copsewood; but these did not prevent her from distinguishing a brighter flash, like the snapping of a lucifer-match, that appeared among them. Her signal was answered!
She lowered the handkerchief, and, taking out a small key, applied it to the lock of the gate. This was undone in a second, and, having thrown open the wicket, she retired within the shadow of the grove, and stood waiting.
Even in that dark shadow her eyes sparkled with the light of love, as she saw a form – the form of a man on foot, parting from the copse, and coming in the direction of the bridge. It was to her the dearest on earth; and she awaited the approach with a flushed cheek and a heart full of joyful emotion.
Chapter Forty Five
It was no fancy of Catalina’s that she heard the shutting of a door as she returned up the avenue. A door in reality had been closed at that moment, – the door that led to the sleeping apartments of the maidservants. Had her steps been quicker, she might have seen some one rush across the patio and enter this door. But she arrived too late for this. The door was closed, and all was silent again. It might have been fancy, thought she.
It was no fancy. From the hour when the family had retired to rest, the door of Catalina’s chamber had been watched. An eye had been bent all the time upon that ray of light escaping through the curtained glass, – the eye of the girl Vicenza.
During the early part of the evening the maid had asked leave to go out for a while. It had been granted. She had been gone for nearly an hour. Conducted by the soldier José, she had had an interview with Roblado. At that interview all had been arranged between them.
She was to watch her mistress from the house, and follow her to the place of assignation. When that should be determined she was to return with all haste to Roblado – who appointed a place of meeting her – and then guide him and his troop to the lovers. This, thought Roblado, would be the surest plan to proceed upon. He had taken his measures accordingly.
The door of the maid’s sleeping-room was just opposite that of Catalina’s chamber. Through the key-hole the girl had seen the light go out, and the Señorita gliding around the patio. She had watched her into the avenue, and then gently opening her own door and stolen after her.
At the moment the Señorita had succeeded in unlocking the great gate of the garden, the mestiza was peeping around the wall at the entrance of the avenue; but on hearing the other return, – for it was by the sound of her footsteps she was warned, – the wily spy had darted back into her room, and closed the door behind her.
It was some time before she dared venture out again, as the key-hole no longer did her any service. She kept her eye to it, however, and, seeing that her mistress did not return to her chamber, she concluded that the latter had continued on into the garden. Again gently opening her door, she stole forth, and, on tiptoe approaching the avenue, peeped into it. It was no longer dark. The gate was open, and the moon shining in lit up the whole passage. It was evident, therefore, that the Señorita had gone through, and was now in the garden.
Was she in the garden? The mestiza remembered the bridge, and knew that her mistress carried the key of the wicket, and often used it both by day and night. She might by this have crossed the bridge, and got far beyond into the open country. She – the spy – might not find the direction she had taken, and thus spoil the whole plan.
With these thoughts passing through her mind, the girl hurried through the avenue, and, crouching down, hastened along the walk as fast as she was able.
Seeing no one among the fruit-trees and flowerbeds, she began to despair; but the thick grove at the bottom of the garden gave her promise – that was a likely place of meeting – capital for such a purpose, as the mestiza, experienced in such matters, well knew.
To approach the grove, however, presented a difficulty. There was a space of open ground – a green parterre – between it and the flowerbeds. Any one, already in the grove, could perceive the approach of another in that direction, and especially under a bright moonlight. This the mestiza saw, and it compelled her to pause and reflect how she was to get nearer.
But one chance seemed to offer. The high adobe wall threw a shadow of some feet along one side of the open ground. In this shadow it might be possible to reach the timber unobserved. The girl resolved to attempt it.
Guided by the instinctive cunning of her race, she dropped down flat upon her breast; and, dragging herself over the grass, she reached the selvedge of the grove, just in the rear of the arbour. There she paused, raised her head, and glanced through the leafy screen that encircled the arbour. She saw what she desired.
Catalina was at this moment upon the bridge, and above the position of the mestiza – so that the latter could perceive her form outlined against the blue of the sky. She saw her hold aloft the white kerchief. She guessed that it was a signal – she saw the flash in answer to it, and then observed her mistress undo the lock and fling the wicket open.
The cunning spy was now sure that the place of meeting was to be the grove itself, and might have returned with that information; but Roblado had distinctly ordered her not to leave until she saw the meeting itself, and was certain of the spot. She therefore remained where she was, and awaited the further proceedings of the lovers.
Carlos, on perceiving the signal, had answered it by flashing some powder already prepared. He lost no time in obeying the well-known summons. A single moment by the side of his horse – a whisper which the latter well understood – and he parted from the copse, Cibolo following at his heels.
On reaching the end of the bridge he bent down, and, addressing some words in a low voice to the dog, proceeded to cross over. The animal did not follow him, but lay down on the opposite bank of the stream.
The next moment the lovers were together.
From the spot where she lay the mestiza witnessed their greeting. The moon shone upon their faces – the fair skin and curly locks of Carlos were distinctly visible under the light. The girl knew the cibolero – it was he.
She had seen all that was necessary for Roblado to know. The grove was the place of meeting. It only remained for her to get back to the officer, and give the information.
She was about to crawl away, and had already half risen, when to her dismay, the lovers appeared coming through the grove, and towards the very arbour behind which she lay!
Their faces were turned towards the spot where she was crouching. If she rose to her feet, or attempted to go off, she could not fail to be seen by one or other of them.
She had no alternative but to remain where she was – at least until some better opportunity offered of getting away – and with this intention she again squatted down close under the shadow of the arbour.
A moment after the lovers entered, and seated themselves upon the benches with which the little bower was provided.
Chapter Forty Six
The hearts of both were so agitated that for some moments neither gave utterance to their thoughts. Catalina was the first to speak.
“Your sister?” she inquired.
“She is better. I have had the rancho restored. They have returned to it, and the old scenes seem to have worked a miracle upon her. Her senses came at once, and relapse only at long intervals. I have hopes it will be all well again.”
“I am glad to hear this. Poor child! she must have suffered sadly in the hands of these rude savages.”
“Rude savages! Ay, Catalina, you have styled them appropriately, though you little know of whom you are speaking.”
“Of whom?” echoed the lady, in surprise. Up to this moment even she had no other than the popular and universal belief that Carlos’ sister had been a captive in the hands of the Indians!
“It was partly for this that I have sought an interview to-night. I could not exist without explaining to you my late conduct, which must have appeared to you a mystery. It shall be so no longer. Hear me, Catalina!”
Carlos revealed the horrid plot, detailing every circumstance, to the utter astonishment of his fair companion.
“Oh! fiends! fiends!” she exclaimed; “who could have imagined such atrocity? Who would suppose that on the earth were wretches like these? But that you, dear Carlos, have told me, I could not have believed in such villainy! I knew that both were bad; I have heard many a tale of the vileness of these two men; but this is wickedness beyond the power of fancy! Santisima Madre! what men! what monsters! It is incredible!”
“You know now with what justice I am called a murderer?”
“Oh, dear Carlos! think not of that. I never gave it a thought. I knew you had some cause just and good. Fear not! The world shall yet know all – ”
“The world!” interrupted Carlos, with a sneer. “For me there is no world. I have no home. Even among those with whom I have been brought up, I have been but a stranger – a heretic outcast. Now I am worse – a hunted outlaw with a price upon my head, and a good large one too. In truth, I never thought I was worth so much before!” Here a laugh escaped from the speaker; but his merriment was of short duration. He continued —
“No world have I but you, Catalina, – and you no longer except in my heart. I must leave you and go far away. Death – worse than death – awaits me here. I must go hence. I must return to the people from whom my parents are sprung – to our long forgotten kindred. Perhaps there I may find a new home and new friends, but happiness I cannot without you – No, never!”
Catalina was silent, with tearful eyes bent upon the ground. She trembled at the thought that was passing in her mind. She feared to give it expression. But it was no time for the affectation of false modesty, for idle bashfulness; and neither were her characteristics. Upon a single word depended the happiness of her life – of her lover’s. Away with womanly coyness! let the thought be spoken!
She turned toward her lover, took his hand in hers, leant forward till her lips were close to his, and, looking in his face, said in a soft, but firm voice —
“Carlos! is it your wish that I go with you?”
In a moment his arms were around her, and their lips had met.
“O Heavens!” he exclaimed; “is this possible? do I hear aright? Dearest Catalina! It was this I would have proposed, but I dared not do it. I feared to make the proposal, so wild does it seem. What! forsake all for me? Oh, querida! querida! Tell me that this is what your words mean! Say you will go with me!”
“I will!” was the short but firm reply.
“O God! I am too happy – a week of terrible suffering, and I am again happy. But a week ago, Catalina, and I was happy. I had met with a strange adventure, one that promised fortune. I was full of hope – hope of winning you; not you, querida, but your father. Of winning him by gold. See!” Here the speaker held forth his hand filled with shining ore. “It is gold. Of this I have discovered a mine, and I had hoped with it to have rivalled your father in his wealth, and then to have won his consent. Alas! alas! that is now hopeless, but your words have given me new happiness. Think not of the fortune you leave behind. I know you do not, dear Catalina. I shall give you one equal to it – perhaps far greater. I know where this precious trash is to be procured, but I shall tell you all when we have time. To-night – ”
He was interrupted by Catalina. Her quick ear had caught a sound that appeared odd to her. It was but a slight rustling among the leaves near the back of the arbour, and might have been caused by the wind, had there been any. But not a breath was stirring. Something else had caused it. What could it be?
After a moment or two both stepped out, and examined the bushes whence the sound was supposed to have proceeded; but nothing was to be seen. They looked around and up towards the garden – there was no appearance of anything that could have caused the noise! It was now much darker than when they had entered the arbour. The moon had gone down, and the silvery light had turned to grey; but it was still clear enough to have distinguished any large object at several yards distance. Catalina could not be mistaken. She had heard a rustling sound to a certainty. Could it have been the dog? Carlos stepped forward on the bridge. It was not – the animal still lay where he had been placed: it could not have been he! What then? Some lizard? perhaps a dangerous serpent?
At all events they would not again enter the arbour but remained standing outside. Still Catalina was not without apprehensions, for she now remembered the loss of the note, and, later still, the shutting of the door, both of which she hastily communicated to her companion.
Hitherto Carlos had paid but little attention to what he believed to be some natural occurrence – the fluttering of a bird which had been disturbed by them, or the gliding of a snake or lizard. But the information now given made a different impression upon him. Used to Indian wiles, he was a ready reasoner, and he perceived at once that there might be something sinister in the sound which had been heard. He resolved, therefore, to examine the ground more carefully.
Once more he proceeded to the back of the arbour, and, dropping to his knees, scanned the grass and bushes. In a moment he raised his head with an exclamation of surprise.
“As I live, Catalina, you were right! Some one has been here, beyond a doubt! Some one has lain on this very spot! Where can they have gone to? By Heaven, it was a woman! Here is the trail of her dress!”
“Vicenza!” exclaimed the lady. “It can be no other – my maid, Vicenza! Dios de mi alma! she has heard every word!”
“No doubt it was Vicenza. She has watched and followed you from the house. What could have tempted her to such an act?”
“Ay de mi! Heaven only knows: her conduct has been very strange of late. It is quite annoying! Dear Carlos!” she continued, changing her tone of regret to one of anxiety, “you must stay no longer. Who knows what she may do? Perhaps summon my father! Perhaps still worse – Santisima Virgen! may it not be!”
Here Catalina hastily communicated the fact of Vicenza’s intimacy with the soldier José, as well as other circumstances relating to the girl, and urged upon her lover the necessity of instant departure.
“I shall go then,” said he. “Not that I much fear them; it is too dark for their carbines, and their sabres will never reach me, while my brave steed stands yonder ready to obey my call. But it is better for me to go. There may be something in it. I cannot explain curiosity that attempts so much as this girl. I shall go at once then.”
And so Carlos had resolved. But much remained to be said: fresh vows of love to be pronounced; an hour to be fixed for a future meeting – perhaps the last before taking the final step – their flight across the great plains.
More than once had Carlos placed his foot upon the bridge, and more than once had he returned to have another sweet word – another parting kiss.
The final “adios” had at length been exchanged; the lovers had parted from each other; Catalina had turned towards the house; and Carlos was advancing to the bridge with the intention of crossing, when a growl from Cibolo caused him to halt and listen.
Again the dog growled, this time more fiercely, following with a series of earnest barks, that told his master some danger was nigh.
The first thought of the latter was to rush across the bridge, and make towards his steed. Had he done so, he would have had time enough to escape; but the desire to warn her, so that she might hasten to the house, impelled him to turn back through the grove. She had already reached the open parterre, and was crossing it, when the barking of the dog caused her to stop, and the moment after Carlos came up. But he had not addressed a word to her before the trampling of horses sounded outside the adobe walls of the garden – horsemen galloped down on both sides, while the confused striking of hoofs showed that some were halting outside, while others deployed around the enclosure. The rattling of the timbers of the large bridge was heard almost at the same instant; then the dog breaking into a fierce attack; and then, through the stems of the trees, the dark forms of horsemen became visible upon the opposite bank of the stream. The garden was surrounded!
