Ana told her it was only the breaking loose of part of a wild herd, but that no one was injured. Old Polonia heard, and blinked and scowled at Ana, but said nothing.
It was noon when Rafael reached the ranch and caught sight of Raquel in a porch-chair under the vines. She paled slightly at sight of him, and turned the onyx ring so that the carving did not show, and by the time he had crossed the patio and walked to join them, her face was a serene mask. The only surprise she betrayed was at the dark look he cast on Ana.
"Are you two in a politician's pay, that you bring me from Los Angeles in a fright of life and death, when I am needed every minute there for the business matters?" he demanded, and saw in a moment that his wife did not understand. Ana only laughed.
"I did it," she acknowledged. "I sent the boy with some truths for you. Your wife was like to die the first night she came. It is by the grace of God she has been saved from a siege of fever. She does not know in the least how ill she was, but if you had heard her gabbling of blood-stained altars and strange wedding-rings, and floods sweeping over her until she screamed to be saved from them,—well, Don Rafael, you might well have forgotten to spare your horse. Three hours would have brought a lover here, but it takes thirty for the husband."
"Why do you two quarrel always?" asked Raquel, indifferently. "I did not know she had sent for you. I was very tired, and the hot sun—something—oh yes, I was ill, and wakened myself screaming. But it is all gone. I can go home."
Rafael tramped the veranda and sulked.
"A fine laugh you have made for me in Los Angeles! They will think you were sick, that I follow my wife!" he said, frowning at Ana. "God of my soul! Why do you not get another husband to worry into the grave, and let your neighbors alone?"
She only laughed again, and bent over her embroidery frame, where white butterflies were being woven on the drawn threads of linen.
"Because no fine, manly, handsome caballero like yourself rides this way to ask me," she retorted. "All the most desirable men are always married."
"The Señor Bryton was here for the night," remarked Juanita.