“Even now the men of Ramon Rotil are packing the beasts for the trail,” said the priest, “and he wants all your plans and desires stated before he goes east.”
“My desires!” and her smile held bitterness as she turned to Kit. “You, señor, have never seen the extent of the Perez holdings in Sonora. They are so vast that one simple woman like me would be lost in any plans of change there. José Perez meant what he said;––no woman can take control while he lives.”
“Still, there are some things a woman could do best,” ventured Kit, “the things of mercy;” and he mentioned the Palomitas slaves–––
“That is true. Also I am in debt for much friendship, and this child of Palomitas must have the thing she asks. Tell me the best way.”
“Learn from Perez which ranch of General Estaban Terain shelters the political prisoners taken from the district of Altar,” suggested Kit. “Either Perez or Conrad can tell.”
Doña Jocasta looked at the priest.
“José Perez will hate you for this marriage, and we must seek safety for you in some other place,” she said kindly, “but you are the one most able to learn this thing. Will it please you to try?”
Padre Andreas went out without a word. In his heart he resented the manner of the marriage ceremony, and scarce hoped Perez would be acquiescent or disposed to further converse, and he personally had no inclination to ask help of the General Rotil.
He was surprised as he crossed the patio to see Perez, still free from chains, walking through the portal to the plaza with Marto Cavayso beside him. He was led past the ammunition cases, and the men in their jubilant work of packing the mules. Far out up the valley to the north a cloud of dust caught the red glow of sunrise, and the priest knew the vaqueros with the Soledad cattle were already on the trail for the main body of revolutionists in the field.
Saddle horses were held a little apart in the plaza, and Padre Andreas hastened his steps lest they mount and be gone, but Marto spoke to him sharply.