CHAPTER VI
AN OLD WOUND REOPENED
If it was a strange coincidence that had thus suddenly brought these twoold foes together, face to face, in this remote quarter of New Mexico,it was a coincidence no less strange that they were both there for thesame object. For Mr. Backus, too, was after the lost silver mine. Eversince his marriage with the daughter of a Mexican peasant he had made atolerably easy living in a small way by keeping a country store, and inthe knowledge which he thus gained of the common pursuits and dominantideas among the Mexicans, what fascinated him particularly were thetales of hidden mines and buried treasures so often to be heard amongstthem. Of all these tales, the legend of the secret mine of the Indiansof Santiago had excited his interest most, so that when he learned thatthe San Remo stage station in their immediate neighbourhood was vacant,and afforded an opening for a store such as his, he speedily arranged totake charge of it and to transfer himself, his family, and his goods tothe spot. He had as yet no definite plan of operations beyond keepinghis ears open for every scrap of information that might come into hisway from any quarter, and doing all he knew to ingratiate himself withthe Indians themselves; but the very first step he had proposed to takewas to find out about this white man who was said to be living amongthem, and to discover what his objects were and how much he knew.Fortune had favoured him so far, and here he was shaking hands with theman himself, who had thus unexpectedly proved to be no other than hisancient enemy.
At the moment when the pair were thus exchanging signs of amity, thedoorway was darkened by the form of a tall, swarthy, well-dressedMexican. Mr. Backus hailed the new-comer instantly.
"Welcome, Don Nepomuceno. You come at a good hour. See the wonderfulthing that has happened. This American senor that you were telling me ofonly yesterday, who lives with the Indians of Santiago, has turned outto be the very same man that plugged me in the great fight at ApacheCanyon nine years ago. We were just shaking hands over it as you came in,and I've been showing him a little mark over my lungs that he gave me asa remembrancer." Mr. Backus was speaking in Spanish, and Manuelita wasdrinking in every syllable with intense interest.
"Well, if you come to that," returned Stephens, baring his left arm anddisplaying the scar of an old bullet wound between the elbow and wrist,"I can do ditto. Perhaps you didn't know that your bullet took methrough the fleshy part of the arm here," and he pointed with his fingerto the place where the ball had entered.
Don Nepomuceno Sanchez, who had seen fighting in the wars with theNavajos, and knew well what wounds were, came forward to examine thescars of either man with critical eyes. "Truly these are honourablescars," he said; "tell me about it, please, if you don't mind talkingover old war times."
"Well, senor," said Backus, in his rapid, fluent Spanish, "it was likethis: we were fighting there in the hills, on opposite sides, as ofcourse you know; and naturally, being all frontiersmen on both sides, weadvanced under cover as much as ever we could, firing as we got achance. And so it came about that he and I, sudden-like, found ourselvesquite close to one another in the brush, and we both fired as it mightbe at the same moment. He must have missed me clean that time, butaccording to the way he tells it, I must have plugged him right throughthat left arm of his; I didn't even know as I'd touched him though, forit never seemed to phase him, and we both of us set to reloading in ahurry, you bet. We both put in the powder, and both rammed down thebullets, and I had got a trifle ahead of him as I brought up my gun tothe hip in order to have it ready to put on the cap. Wal', I'm jiggeredif he didn't leave out the capping part of the business, and brought hispiece straight up to his shoulder to draw a bead on me. You bet I justthought I knowed as I'd got the deadwood on him then. 'Got ye, Yank,' Icalled out, slipping the cap on my tube, 'ye haint capped yer gun.''Don't want to,' sez he; and whang-g-g! she went, and took me right herethrough the lung; and that was the last I ever knowed of anything forabout a day and a half. You see, he had some kind of a gol-durned,stem-winding trick on his gun that did the capping for him, that Ididn't know nothing about."
"Well, now it's all over," said Stephens frankly, "I'm real glad tolearn that your wound wasn't mortal. My company fell back directly afterwe exchanged shots, so that I never knew what had become of you."
"Oh," said the Texan, "they patched me up in the hospital somehow oranother, and then I was took in and nursed in a Mexican family, and theend of it was I married one of the darters and settled in the Territory,and here I am with a wife and three kids, and running a store. I do keepa little good whisky, too, you may like to know. Say, won't you take adrink? It's my treat. You'll join us in a _tragito_, won't you, DonNepomuceno?"
"I'll drink with you with pleasure," said Stephens, "if you'll allow meto take it in something like a lemon soda. Whisky's a thing I don't use,if you'll excuse me."
"Surely, surely," in amiable tones remarked Mr. Backus, who was settingout on the counter a three-parts full decanter and some glasses. "I'lltry and mix something of the lemon-soda order as near as I can fix it."He had hoped to get Stephens into a loquacious mood and pump him over afew social drinks, but he was too cunning to show any trace ofdisappointment. "Every man has a right to choose his own liquor; I don'tquarrel with no man's taste," he said, as he passed the decanter to DonNepomuceno, with a familiar "Help yourself, friend," and busied himselfin searching for materials for concocting some kind of a temperancedrink for his other guest.
Sanchez poured a little of the strong spirit into a glass and filled itup with water. "You are coming to take dinner in my house presently, areyou not, Don Estevan?" he said in his courteous tones, addressingStephens, who accepted the invitation cordially. "Manuelita, my child,"he turned to his eldest daughter, "run home now quick with Altagracia,and tell your aunt that Don Estevan is coming and to have dinner readysoon."
The temperance drink was compounded, and the three men clinked glassesand pledged each other.
"And what have you bin' doing ever since our last meeting?" said Mr.Backus genially to his former foe. "I've give ye my story; now let'shear yourn."
"Mining," said Stephens with curt emphasis. The word made the Texan givea start of surprise. "Yes," he continued, "it's mining and prospectingfor gold and silver that has been my trade ever since; and, what's more,I've travelled over a good part of the Pacific slope at it, too. It's agame you get terribly stuck on after once you take to it."
"Mining, eh?" said the Texan with affected indifference. "Wal', thatar's a thing as I dunno nothin' at all about."
He gave a careless laugh. "Oh, by the way," he said, turning his back onthe two men and rummaging on the shelf behind him for a couple of cansof oysters which he displayed with a great show of earnestness, "that'sthe brand of oysters, Don Nepomuceno, that I meant to bring to yournotice, first chance. I can recommend 'em; they're prime."
"Yes," he continued, turning again to Stephens, "you was saying as howyou was interested in mines; but as far as that goes, why there ain't nomines being worked in this part of the country, not as I know of." Asuspicious man might have guessed that Backus's interest in thepossibility of a mine in the neighbourhood of Santiago was a good dealstronger than he chose to let appear, but John Stephens was not of asuspicious nature.
"No," he said in reply, "there aren't any now, but there have been, andthere will be again, if I'm any judge." Then, reflecting that he mightsay too much, and checking himself he went on more cautiously. "But Idon't see any opening here myself. I guess I'm about through with NewMexico for the present, and I calculate to light out for Colorado prettysoon. The railroads have got in there, and there's a boom on."
Mr. Backus was sharp at reading other people's motives, and saw in aninstant that Stephens was trying to disguise his. So much the morereason for finding out what they were.
"What! going off to Colorado?" he exclaimed with an air of surprise."Why, I'd understood from the folks here that you had settled down inSantiago for keeps. That's really how I come to hear of you; I heardthat you was a white man li
ving amongst them Indians, and had joined thetribe; so I supposed you was adopted by them, and had gone and gothitched up with a squaw."
Stephens's eyes flashed.
"Shouldn't wonder if that drawed him out a bit," reflected Mr. Backusprivately to himself.
"If anyone told you so," said the prospector stiffly, "let me tell youthat you have been misinformed. No sir, squaws aren't in my line; I'mnot that sort of a man. I never have proposed to go outside of my owncolour, and I never will."
Mr. Backus gave a short laugh. The word colour touched him on the raw.He was married to a Mexican, and many Americans are undiscriminatingenough to class the Mexicans with coloured people. The Mexicansthemselves naturally resent such a slight on their race; although a partof them have more or less Indian blood in their veins, they prefer toignore that side of their pedigree and trace their descent solely backto the conquering cavaliers of Spain. But Mr. Backus was himself aquarter-blooded Indian. He called himself a Texan, and passed as such;though he was born in the Indian Territory and his mother had been ahalf-breed Cherokee.
He changed the subject abruptly. "Fill your glass again, Don," he said,pushing the decanter towards the Mexican. "It's good whiskey, real oldBourbon. 'There isn't a headache in a hogshead of it,' as the Irishmansaid."
"A thousand thanks, no, if you will excuse me," replied the Mexican, "Ihave sufficient. I think I must be going," he went on, for indeed hefelt a little out of it, seeing that the two Americans had dropped backinstinctively into talking in their own language, of which he knew but afew words. "I shall see you again, then, presently, Don Estevan, at myhouse," and bowing politely he departed homewards.
"That man's darned well fixed, I can tell you," remarked thestorekeeper, refilling his own glass and tossing it off as soon as theMexican had gone. "And what's more, he's a square man, too. I don't mindsaying that Nepomuceno Sanchez can just have all the credit he wants atthis store. He's one of the heirs to the Sanchez grant, and that giveshim the use of all the pasture land he needs for his sheep. He's a verypeart business man, for a Mexican. I used to come across him over inPena Blanca, you know. He's a relation of old man Baca's by marriage,and he's got a lot of his sheep on shares and makes a good thing of it."
The personage irreverently referred to by the Texan as "old man Baca"was the head of the family of that name, and a man of no small positionand wealth. The old families of New Mexico own immense flocks of hardylittle Mexican sheep, whose numbers often run into hundreds ofthousands. Their flocks are divided into bands of a few thousand and letout on shares to retainers, who return a rent in kind of the wool andthe increase. The relation between these retainers and the heads of thegreat families is semi-feudal.
"Yes," said Stephens, "taking sheep on shares is a good business. I'veseen his son, young Andres Sanchez, up there on that Sanchez grant withtheir sheep herd when I've been out on the mountains."
"Oh, you've been up on the mountains round here?" said Backus, who sawhis chance to lead the conversation once more in the direction hewanted. "Mining, I suppose?" he added, as if it were an afterthought.
"Well, I've prospected some," returned the other. "But you've heard mesay I didn't think much of the opening here."
"Ever take any of the Indians out prospecting with you?" inquired theTexan. "They've bin here so long they'd ought to know if there'sanything lying around worth looking at. Did they never tell you anythingabout mines?" He let these last words fall after a pause with studiedcarelessness.
"No, sir," said the prospector, "I've learnt nothing from the Indians,and it's highly possible that they've nothing to tell."
"You never thought to ask 'em, I suppose?" suggested Backus.
"Why should I?" returned the other quietly. "May I ask, Mr. Backus, ifyou've any special reason for these questions?"
The Texan hesitated; he felt sure now that his old antagonist was not atSantiago by mere chance, but had an object in view which he did notcare to disclose. He quickly decided to try and gain his confidence by ashow of openness.
"Wal', yes, I have," he admitted; "I guess I've got some informationthat might be of value to anyone as knew how to use it."
"What could he mean?" Stephens thought. "Was this information theknowledge of the secret mine? If so, it might be worth while to maketerms with him, as the Indians seemed to be so impracticable."
"If anyone will show me a mine," said the prospector, "I can tell him ifit's worth working, and how to work it."
"Yes," returned Backus, "and if so what terms would you expect?"
"A half-interest," said Stephens. "If I thought it good enough I'd takea half-interest and bear my share of the expenses."
"That's a square offer," replied the Texan. "Now look at here. Now,s'posin' I was to tell you of a mine in this neighbourhood, you'd bewilling to do that with me?"
"Are you referring to the lost mine of the Indians?" asked theprospector. It was not worth while to make any further mystery of thematter, for the Texan had obviously heard the story.
"That's just what I am," said Backus. "I thought as how you must haveheard some talk about it. Now you allow as you don't know where it is."
"I do not," said the other.
"Wal', I do," said Backus. "And I'll tell it to you on your own terms,and that's a half-interest for each of us. It's on the Indian grant upin the mountains."
"Well, I knew that much," said Stephens.
"Ah," returned the Texan, "but I can tell you more'n that. The Indianshaint got no right to keep it; that grant haint been confirmed to themby act of Congress."
"But, my dear sir," returned Stephens, with something that savoured ofcontempt, "you're revealing to me as your precious secret what's matterof common knowledge. If you ask anyone in the office at Santa Fe,they'll tell you that the grant to the Indians of four square leaguesround the pueblo has been confirmed to them, and that they own it fromgrass-roots to Hades by a perfectly indefeasible title; but they'll tellyou there, too, in the office, that the twenty miles square that theyclaim in the mountains has never been confirmed, and for that matter isoverlapped by half a dozen unconfirmed Mexican grants as well. The realtitle to that land is in the United States Government. That's as old asa last year's bird's-nest."
"I see you're well posted in the business," said Backus; "but maybe youdon't know that the secret mine's on the Cerro de las Viboras. I cantell you that."
"If you can show it to me up there on that Rattlesnake Mountain, Mr.Backus," was Stephens's reply, "I'm ready to acknowledge at once thatyou'll show me something I don't know. But as you know so much you areprobably aware that the mine has been closed for a hundred years ormore, and that rumour locates it in a dozen different places, and thatto look for it on the Cerro without knowing where it is is to look for aneedle in a haystack. I've been all around that Cerro, you can bet, butI haven't run across the mine. The Cerro's a mountain five miles roundand five thousand feet high, and a precious rough mountain at that. I'mwilling to go up there again; I'm ready to start to-morrow if you like;and if you'll show me the mine there I'm ready to do as I said with youabout working it; but unless you can do that I don't consider that whathas passed constitutes any claim between us on either side."
"Wal'," said the Texan, "I couldn't leave the store here just yet, nottill I get things straightened out and settled down. Nor I won't swearfor sartin as I can put you right on to the exact spot, seein' as howI've not been up thar myself yet; but mebbe I can before long, and Ireckon that ought to be enough for ye. Say, look here, couldn't we workit between us, somehow, to get them Indians to show us the spot?"
This intrusive Texan had so far told Stephens nothing he did not knowalready, and now here he was wanting to poach on the prospector'sprivate preserve--his personal influence with the Indians.
"That's what I've been trying to do already, Mr. Backus," said Stephensirritably; "and, to be plain with you, I'm not looking out for a partnerin this matter."
"Ah, but mebbe that's just what you want," returned the stor
ekeeperimperturbably; "mebbe the reason as you haint won nary trick so far isthat you've bin playing a lone hand. Now, I'll gamble from what you saidjust now that you've bin trying to get the secret out of the bucks overthere, and that you haven't tried the women for it at all. Now, aint Iright?" and he gave the other a cunning look.
"I've never seen any reason to think that the women know anything aboutit," returned Stephens. "It isn't likely they would." The idea hadnever even occurred to him.
"Ah, and I'll gamble they do," replied Backus. "I know a thing or twoabout Indians myself, and it's a great trick of theirs to let some ofthe squaws--only some, mind you--keep some of the secrets of the tribe.You see they don't go and get killed off like the bucks, so it acts as akind of safeguard against losing the knowledge of a thing entirely thatway. Aint there some extra high-toned women, now, in the Santiagotribe,--chief's darters and the like, eh?" His keen black eyes wereturned on the other with a cunning inquisitiveness. "Yes, by the way,aint there a white squaw in the tribe somewheres?"
Stephens was startled. "You've taken a lot of trouble to find outthings, I fancy, Mr. Backus," he said rather suspiciously; "a great dealmore, indeed, than you seemed inclined to let on at first. But you'requite right. Yes, there is a white squaw in the tribe, and she's thedaughter of the cacique."
Backus listened with extreme interest. "You reckon she's an Indian,then?" he said. "You don't think she's a white girl they've picked upand adopted, by any chance? I've seen a good few sorts of Indians, butnever any white ones yet."
"Oh no, she's Indian, right enough," said Stephens; "she's a naturalIndian blonde, as fair-complected as I am. They're none so rare amongthese Pueblo Indians. There's twenty or thirty of them over in Zuni."
"I wanter know!" exclaimed the Texan, by which phrase he indicatedextreme surprise. "Wal', she might be worth trying. The cacique hadought to know the secret if anybody does, and she'd be as likely as anyof the squaws to be let into it. Why shouldn't you tackle her? Is shemarried?"
"No, she's not married yet," replied the other.
"Wal', there's yer chance," said the storekeeper, with a knowing grin;"but I forgot, you draw the line pretty close in the matter of colour;or mebbe, she being light-complected as yourself, you'd reckon she waswhite enough to suit you."
Stephens flushed; he had given this man no right to intrude thesefamiliarities upon him; in silence he picked up his parcels to go. Whenyou have just been forgiven by a man for shooting him through the lungs,you can hardly blaze out at him for being a trifle too personal in hisconversation.
"Wal', I'm going to be up there right along," continued the storekeeper,seeing that Stephens volunteered no further comment, and was preparingto start, "and then you can introduce me. I'm going to make a bid forthe trade of the pueblo anyhow, and I'll have to get on the right sideof the cacique for that, and I might as well get the inside track withthe girl, too. It's all in the family, eh?" He grinned again with a kindof a grin that Stephens loathed. "And't won't be trespassing on yourproperty neither, I s'pose?"
"I leave the Indian women alone, Mr. Backus, as I think I told youbefore," said Stephens haughtily, and he drew himself up and moved tothe door.
"Oh, no offence," cried the other quickly, following him; "I see you'rehigh-toned, of course. I didn't mean nothing low-down, nohow"; heattended the prospector out to the hitching-post, where the mule wasfastened, and watched him as he put the parcels into his saddle-bags.
"That's a real nice California saddle of yourn," he said in apropitiatory tone, "and an A1 mule wearing it. Wal', when are you goingto ask me to come and meet Miss Pocahontas?"
"I'm afraid I'm off to the sierra to-morrow on a hunt," was the somewhatungracious reply, "but we may meet again later on when I come back,before I start for Colorado, if I decide after all to go there"; and heswung himself into his saddle and raised his bridle rein.
"What makes ye so sot on leavin' this Territory?" queried Backus, layinghis hand on the mule's neck and walking a few paces alongside theparting guest. "Aint it most time for ye to quit all this rovin' round,and settle down? Why don't you ask Don Nepomuceno, now, for his darter?She's gone on you already, if you only knowed it. When you was fingeringyour revolver there in the store just now--oh, I seen what your littlegame was, right enough--her eyes was just glued to you. Oh yes; if I waswatching you close, right along the hull time, you bet I kept my littleeye open for what the women thought of it all as well. You bet I aint noinnercent; I aint bin and lived here these seven years in New Mexicowithout learning to watch the women every time. I'm on the spot there,and no mistake. I know how a girl looks when she thinks as how her man'sin danger that she's gone on. You ask her father for her, and you'llfind you've got the inside track there, or my name aint Tom Backus."
"Really, Mr. Backus," replied Stephens, "you've set yourself to discussa matter I prefer not to talk about. I think I'll say good morning now."
With a regretful air Mr. Backus removed his hand from the mule's neck,and remained there still looking at Stephens's back, while the animalhe bestrode, feeling its rider's spurs, quickened its pace.
"Wal', so long," he cried after him as the distance between them rapidlyincreased. "You'd better think over that idea of mine. Take care ofyerself now. Good men is scarce"--"and prospectors who know a mine whenthey see it are scarcer, just now, in this part of the world," hecontinued to himself. "I've no fancy to have you putting out forColorado till you've done my bit of work for me down here, MisterStephens. If I can once get you to fooling with that squaw girl, I'llbet a dollar you can get the secret of the Indians' silver mine out ofher; and if she ain't enough to keep you here you may sport around afterMiss Manuelita, but stop here you must till you've found that mine forme. You find it and I take the profits, that's fair division," and hegave a chuckle of satisfaction; "and when the time comes for paying youyour share, you'll find I haint forgotten how to shoot. Lord! what luckto drop on you like this, and you as innercent as a new-born babby, forall your fingering your six-shooter the way you did. I reckon you'lljust play the cards as I deal 'em, and never spot me a-raising a colddeck on you, as I will."