Chata and Chinita: A Novel

by Laura Preston

In all the country round the abduction of Norberto Garcia was called “the abduction by enchanters,”—so sudden had been the attack, so complete the disappearance of the victim. Beyond the immediate scene no trace remained of the act,—it seemed that the very earth must have opened to swallow the perpetrators; and yet day by day proofs of their existence were found in letters left upon the very saddle crossed by the father, or upon the pillow wet with the tears of the mother, demanding ransom which each day became more exorbitant, accompanied by threats more and more ingenious and horrible.

Such seizures, though rare, were by no means unprecedented, and such threats had been proved to be only too likely to be fulfilled. As days went by the agony of the parents became unbearable, and Don Gregorio’s early resolution to spend a fortune in the pursuit and punishment of the robbers rather than comply with their demands, and thus lend encouragement to similar outrages, began to yield before the imminent danger to the life of his son; and to Doña Isabel it seemed a cruel mockery that her brother and the young Garcias should urge him to further exertion and postponement of the inevitable moment when he must accede to the imperious demands of the outlaws.

The family were one evening discussing again the momentous and constantly agitated question, when Doña Feliz appeared among them with starting eyes and pallid cheeks, bidding Don Gregorio go to his wife, from whose nerveless hand she had wrested a paper, which Leon seized and opened as the excited woman held it toward him. Don Gregorio turned back at his brother-in-law’s exclamation, and beheld upon his outstretched hand a lock of soft brown hair, evidently that of a child. It had been severed from the head by a bloody knife. It was a mute threat, yet they understood it but too well. Every man there sprang to his feet with a groan or an oath. Such a threat they remembered had been sent to the parents the very day before the infant Ranulfo Ortega had been found dead not a hundred yards from his father’s door. Did this mean also that the last demand for ransom had been made, and the patience of Norberto’s abductors was exhausted?

Don Gregorio clasped his hands over his eyes, and reeled against the wall. Leon sprang to his feet, pale to his lips, his eyes blazing. Julian Garcia picked up the hair which had fallen from Leon’s hand; the others stood grouped in horrified expectancy. Doña Feliz stood for a moment looking at them with lofty courage and determination upon her face.

“What,” she cried, “is this a time for hesitation? The money must be paid, the child’s life saved. Vengeance can wait!” She spoke with a fire that thrilled them, and though they spoke but of the ransom, it was the word “vengeance” that rang in their ears, and steeled Don Gregorio to the terrible task that awaited him.

That night the quaint hiding-places of the vast hacienda were ransacked, and many a hoard of coin was extracted from the deep corners of the walls, and the depths of half-ruinous wells. Doña Isabel saw treasures of whose existence she had never heard before, but had perhaps vaguely suspected; for through the long years of anarchy the Garcias had become expert in secreting such surplus wealth as they desired to keep within reach. Large as was the sum brought to light, it barely sufficed to meet the demands of the robbers; yet it was a question how such a weight of coin was to be conveyed by one person to the spot indicated for the payment of the ransom and delivery of the child,—for it had been urgently insisted upon that but one man should go into the very stronghold of the bandits.

At daybreak, having refused the offer of Leon Vallé to go in his stead, Don Gregorio mounted his horse and set out on his mission. He knew well the place appointed, for he had been in his youth an adventurous mountaineer, and more than once had penetrated the deep gorge into which, late in the afternoon, he descended, bearing with him the gold and silver. As he entered the “Zahuan del Infierno” he shuddered. Not ten days before he had passed through it, followed by a dozen trusty followers, in search of his child, and had discovered no trace of him; now he was alone, weighted with treasure, sufficient sensibly to retard his movements and render him a rich prize for the outlaws he had gone to meet. Once he fancied he heard a step behind him; doubtless he was shadowed by those who would take his life without a moment’s hesitation. Yet he pressed on, obliged to leave his horse and proceed on foot, for at times the cliffs were so close together that a man could barely force his way between them.

Just as the last rays of daylight pierced the gloomy abyss, at a sudden turn in the narrowest part of the gorge Don Gregorio saw standing two armed men, placed in such a position that the head of one overtopped that of the other, while the features of both were shadowed though made the more forbidding by heavy black beards, which it occurred to him later were probably false and worn for the purpose of disguise. At the feet of the foremost was placed a child; and though he restrained the cry that rose to his lips, the tortured father recognized in him his son,—but so emaciated, so deathly pale, with such wild, startled eyes, gazing like a hunted creature before him, yet seeing nothing, that he could scarcely credit it was the same beautiful, sensitive, highly-strung Norberto who had been wrested from him but a short month before.

At the sight the father felt an almost irresistible impulse to precipitate himself upon those fiends who thus dared to mock him; but even had his hands been free to grasp the pistol in his belt, to have done so would have been to bring upon himself certain death. As it was he could but look with blind rage from the bags of coin he carried to the brigands who stood like statues, the right hand of the foremost laid upon the throat of the trembling boy. Even in that desperate moment Don Gregorio noticed that the hand was whiter and more slender than the hands of common men are wont to be; the nails were well formed and well kept, though there was a bruise or mark on the second one, as though it had met some recent injury. He was not conscious at the time that he noticed this, but it came to him afterward. The foremost man did not speak; it was the other who in a soft voice, as evenly modulated as though to words of purest courtesy, bade the Señor Garcia welcome, and thanked him for his prompt appearance.

“Let us dispense with compliments,” said Don Gregorio, huskily. “Here is the money you have demanded for my child. I know something of the honor of bandits, and as you can gain nothing by falsifying your word, I have chosen to trust in it. Here am I, alone with the gold,” and he poured it out on the rock at the child’s feet,—“count it if you will;” and he put out his hand and laid it upon the child’s shoulder. As he did so his hand touched the brigand’s, and both started, glaring like two tigers before they spring; but at that moment Norberto bounded over the scattered heap of coin and into his father’s arms.