Then he let the priest in and locked the door, going back to Tula with the key. She sat where he had left her, and was crooning again the weird tuneless dirge at which Marto had been appalled.
But she handed him a letter.
“Marto forgot. It was with the Chinaman trader at the railroad,” she said and went placidly on fondling the key as she had fondled the knife, and pitching her voice in that curious falsetto dear to Indian ceremonial.
He could scarce credit the letter as intended for himself, as it was addressed in a straggling hand filling all the envelope, to Capitan Christofero Rhodes, Manager of Rancho Soledad, District of Altar, Sonora, Mexico, and in one corner was written, “By courtesy of Señor Fidelio Lopez,” and the date within a week. He opened it, and walked out to the western end of the corridor where the light was yet good, though through the barred windows he could see candles already lit in the shadowy sala.
The letter was from Cap Pike, and in the midst of all the accumulated horror about him, Kit was conscious of a great homesick leap of the heart as he skimmed the page and found her name––“Billie is all right!”
How are you, Capitan? (began the letter). That fellow Fidelio rode into the cantina here at La Partida today. He asked a hell’s slew of questions about you, and Billie and me nearly had fits, for we thought you were sure dead or held for ransom, and I give it to you straight, Kit, there isn’t a peso left on the two ranches to ransom even Baby Buntin’ if the little rat is still alive, and that ain’t all Kit: it don’t seem possible that Conrad and Singleton mortgaged both ranches clear up to the hilt, but it sure has happened, every acre is plastered with ten per cent paper and the compound interest strips it from Billie just as sure as if it was droppin’ through to China. When Conrad was on the job he had it all blanketed, but now saltpeter can’t save it without cash. Billie is all right, but some peaked with worry. So am I. But you cheer up, for I got plans for a hike up into Pinal County for us three on a search for the Lost Dutchman Mine, lost fifty years and I have a hunch we can find it, got the dope from an old half breed who knew the Dutchman. So don’t you worry about trailing home broke. The Fidelio hombre said to look for you in six days after Easter, and meet you with water at the Rio Seco, so we’ll do that. He called you capitan and said the Deliverer had made you an officer; how about it? He let loose a line of talk about your two women in the outfit, but I sort of stalled him on that, so Billie wouldn’t get it, for I reckon that’s a greaser lie, Kit, and you ain’t hitched up to no gay Juanita down there. I had a monkey and parrot time to explain even that Tula squaw to Billie, for she didn’t savvy––not a copper cent’s worth! She is right here now instructin’ me, but I won’t let her read this, so don’t you worry. She says to tell you it looks at last like our old eagle bird will have a chance to flop its wings in France. The pair of us is near about cross-eyed from watchin’ the south trail into Altar, and the east trail where the troops will go! She says even if we are broke there is an adobe for you at Vijil’s, and a range for Buntin’ and Pardner. Billie rides Pardner now instead of Pat.
I reckon that’s all Kit, and I’ve worked up a cramp on this anyway. I figured that maybe you laid low down there till the Singleton murder was cleared up, but I can alibi you on that O. K., when Johnny comes marchin’ home! So don’t you worry.
Yours truly,
Pike.
He read it over twice, seeking out the lines with her name and dwelling on them. So Billie was riding Pardner,––and Billie had a camp ready for him,––and Billie couldn’t savvy even a little Indian girl in his outfit––say!
He was smiling at that with a very warm glow in his heart for the resentment of Billie. He could just imagine Pike’s monkey and parrot time trying to make Billie understand accidents of the trail in Sonora. He would make that all clear when he got back to God’s country! And the little heiress of Granados ranches was only an owner of debt-laden acres,––couldn’t raise a peso to ransom even the little burro! Well, he was glad she rode Pardner instead of another horse; that showed–––
Then he smiled again, and drifted into dreams. He would let Bunting travel light to the Rio Seco, and then load him for her as no burro ever was loaded to cross the border! He wondered if she’d tell him again he couldn’t hold a foreman’s job? He wondered–––
And then he felt a light touch on his arm, and turned to see the starlike beauty of Doña Jocasta beside him. Truly the companionship of Doña Jocasta might be a more difficult thing to explain than that of the Indian girl of a slave raid!