CHAPTER IX
YOUNG PAGE COMES TO TOWN
Here and there throughout the great stretches of the sun-smittensouthwest are spots which still remain practically unknown, wherein mencome seldom or not at all, where no man cares to tarry. Barrenmountains that are blistering hot, sucked dry long ago of their lastvestige of moisture; endless drifts of sand where the silent animallife is scanty, where fanged cactus and stubborn mesquite fight theireternal battles for life; mesas and lomas little known, shunned byhumanity. True, men have been here, some few poking into the dust ofancient ruins, more seeking minerals, and now and then one, fleeing thelaw, to be followed relentlessly by such as Roderick Norton. And yetthere is the evidence, if one looks, that this desolate, shunned landonce had its teeming tribes and its green fields.
Virginia and Roderick, having made their hazardous way down the cliffsand to their horses in silence, found their tongues loosened as theyrode westward in the soft dawn. Virginia put her questions and he, asbest he could, answered them. She asked eagerly of the oldcliff-dwellers and he shrugged his shoulders. Aztecs, were they?Toltecs? What? _Quien sabe_! They were a people of mystery who hadleft behind them a silence like that of the desert wastes themselves.Whence they came, where they went, and why, must long remain questionswith many answers and therefore none at all. But he could tell her afew things of the ancient civilization . . . and a civilization ittruly was . . . and of the signs left for posterity to puzzle over.
They had builded cities, and the ruins of their pueblos still standscattered across the weary, scorched land; they constructed mile aftermile of aqueducts whose lines are followed to-day by reclamationengineers; they irrigated and cultivated their lands; they made abodeshigh up on the mountains, dwelling in caves, enlarging their dwellings,shaping homes and fortresses and lookouts. And just so long as themountains themselves last, will men come now and then into such placesas that wherein Jim Galloway's rifles lay hidden.
"I have lived in this part of the world all but two or three years ofmy life," said Norton at the end, "and yet I never heard of theseparticular caves until a very few days ago. I don't believe that thereare ten people living who know of them; so Galloway, hiding his stuffout there was playing just as safe as a man can play--when he plays thegame crooked, anyway."
"But won't he guess something when he misses Moraga?"
"I don't think so." Norton shook his head. "Tom Cutter and Brocky madeMoraga talk. His job was to keep an eye on this end, but he wascommissioned also to make a trip over to the county line. The firstthing Jim Galloway will hear will be that Moraga got drunk and into ascrape and was taken in by Sheriff Roberts. Then I think that Gallowayhimself will slip out of San Juan himself some dark night and climb thecliffs to make sure. When he finds everything absolutely as it wasleft, when time passes and nothing is done, I think he will replaceMoraga with another man and figure that everything is all right. Whyshouldn't he?"
From Galloway and Moraga they got back to a discussion of the ancientpeoples of the desert, venturing surmise for surmise, finding thattheir stimulated fancies winged together, daring to construct forthemselves something of the forgotten annals of a forgotten folk who,perhaps, were living in walled cities while old Egypt was building herpyramids. Then, abruptly, in a patch of tall mesquite, Norton reinedin his horse and stopped.
"You understand why I must leave you here," he said. "Yonder, beyondthose trees straight ahead . . . you will see it from that littleridge . . . is Las Estrellas, a town of a dozen houses. But before youget there you will come to the house where old Ramorez, a half-breed,lives. You remember; if you are missed in San Juan, Struve will saythat you have gone to see Ramorez. He is actually sick by the way;maybe you can do something for him. His shack is in those cottonwoods,this side of Las Estrellas. You'll find Ignacio there, too; he'll goback to San Juan with you. And, once again, thank you."
He put out his hand; she gave him hers and for a moment they satlooking at each other gravely. Then Norton smiled, the pleasant boyishsmile, her lips curved at him deliciously, he touched his hat and wasgone. And she, riding slowly, turned Persis toward Las Estrellas.
From Las Estrellas, an unkempt, ugly village strangely named, it wasnecessary to ride some fifteen miles through sand and scrub beforecoming again into San Juan. Virginia Page, sincerely glad that she hadmade her call upon old Ramorez who was suffering painfully from acutestomach trouble and whose distress she could partially alleviate, madethe return ride in the company of Ignacio. But first, from Ramorez'sbaking hovel, the Indian conducted her to another where a young womanwith a baby a week old needed her. So it was well on in the afternoonand with a securely established alibi that she rode by the old Missionand to the hotel. As Ignacio rode listlessly away with the horses, asinnocent looking a lazy beggar as the world ever knew, Virginia caughta glimpse of a white skirt and cool sunshade coming up the street.
"Florence Engle," she thought. "Who, no doubt, will cut me dead if Igive her the opportunity."
A little hurriedly she turned in at the hotel door and went to herroom. She had removed hat and gantlets, and was preparing for a bathand change of clothing when a light knock sounded on her door. Therap, preceded by quick little steps down the hall, was essentiallyfeminine.
"Hello, Cousin Virginia," said Florence. "May I come in?"
Virginia brought her in, gave her a chair and regarded her curiously.The girl's face was flushed and pink, her eyes were bright and quitegay and untroubled, her whole air genuinely friendly. Last nightVirginia had judged her to be about seventeen; now she looked a merechild.
"I was perfectly nasty last night, wasn't I?" Florrie remarked as shestood her sunshade by her chair and smiled engagingly. "Oh, I know it.Just a horrid little cat . . . but then I'm that most of the time. Icame all this way and in all this dust and heat just to ask you toforgive me. Will you?"
For the moment Virginia was nonplussed. But Florence only laughed,clasped her hands somewhat affectedly and ran on, her words tumblingout in helter-skelter fashion.
"Oh, I know. I'm spoiled and I'm selfish, and I'm mean, I suppose.And, oh dear, I'm as jealous as anything. But I'm ashamed of myselfthis time. Whew! You ought to have listened in on the party after youleft! If you could have heard mama scold me and papa jaw me about theway I acted it would have made you almost sorry for me."
"But you weren't horrid at all," Virginia broke in at last, her heartsuddenly warming to this very obviously spoiled, futile, but none theless likable, Florrie. "You mustn't talk that way. And if yourparents made you come. . . ."
"They didn't," said Florrie calmly. "They couldn't. Nobody ever mademe do anything; that's what's the matter with me. I came because Iwanted to. As the men say, I wanted to square myself. And, would youbelieve it, this is the third time I have called. Mr. Struve kepttelling me that you had gone to see old Joe Ramorez . . . isn't he theawfullest old pirate you ever saw? And the dirtiest? I don't see howyou can go near a man like that, even if he is dying; honestly I don't.But you must do all kinds of things, being a doctor."
Her clasped hands tightened, she put her head of fluffy hair to oneside and looked at Virginia with such frank wonder in her eyes thatVirginia colored under them.
"And," ran on Florrie, forestalling a possible interruption, "I wasready to poke fun at you last night just for being something capableand . . . and splendid. There was my jealousy again, I suppose. Youought to have heard papa on that score; 'Look here, my fine miss; ifyou could just be something worth while in the world, if you could doas much good in all of your silly life as Virginia Page does every dayof hers,' . . . and so forth until he was ready to burst and mama wasready to cry, and I was ready to bite him!" She trilled off in a burstof laughter which was eloquent of the fact that Florence Engle, be herfaults what they might, was not the one to hold a grudge.
"I am sorry," said Virginia, smiling a little, "if on my account . . ."
"You were just going to get cleane
d up, weren't you?" asked Florriecontritely. "You look as hot and dusty as anything. My, what prettyhair you have; I'll bet it comes down to your waist, doesn't it? Youought to see mine when I take it down; it's like the pictures of thebush-whackers . . . you know what I mean, from South Africa orsomewhere, you know . . . only, of course, mine's a prettier color.Sometime I'll come and comb yours for you, when you're tired out fromcuring sick Indians. But now," and she jumped to her feet, "I'll goout on the porch while you get dressed and then you come out, will you?It's cool there under the awning, and I'll have Mr. Struve bring us outsome cold lemonade. But first, you do forgive me, don't you?"
Virginia's prompt assurance was incomplete when Florrie flitted out,banging the door after her, headed toward the lounging-chairs on theveranda.
"You pretty thing!" exclaimed Miss Florrie as Virginia joined her ascoolly and femininely dressed, if not quite as fluffily, as thebanker's daughter. "Oh, but you are quite the most stunning creaturethat ever came into San Juan! Oh, I know all about myself; don't yousuppose I've stood in front of a glass by the long hours . . . wishingit was a wishing-glass all the time and that I could turn a pug-noseinto a Grecian. I'm pretty; you're simply beautiful!"
"Look here, my dear," laughed Virginia, taking the chair which Florriehad drawn close up to her own in the shade against the adobe wall, "youhave already made amends. It isn't necessary to . . ."
"I haven't half finished," cried Florrie emphatically. "You see it's away of mine to do things just by halves and quit there. But to-day itis different; to-day I am going to square myself. That's one reasonwhy I treated you so cattishly last night; because you were somaddeningly good to look upon. Through a man's eyes, you know; andthat's about all that counts anyway, isn't it? And the other reasonwas that you came in with Roddy and he looked so contented. . . . Doyou wonder that I am just wild about him? Isn't he a perfect dear?"
Florrie's utter frankness disconcerted Virginia. The confession of"wildness" about San Juan's sheriff, followed by the asseveration ofhis perfect dearness was made in bright frankness, Florrie's voicelowered no whit though Julius Struve at the moment was coming down theveranda bearing a tray and glasses. Virginia was not without gratitudethat Struve lingered a moment and bantered with Florrie; when hedeparted she sought to switch the talk in another direction. ButFlorrie, sipping her tall glass and setting it aside, was before her.
"You see it was double-barrelled jealousy; so I did rather well not tofly at you and tear your eyes out, didn't I? Just because you and hecame in together . . . as if every time a man and girl walk down thestreet together it means that they are going to get married! But yousee, Roddy and I have known each other ever since before I canremember, and I have asked myself a million times if some day we aregoing to be Mr. and Mrs. Roderick Norton . . . and there are times whenI think we are!"
"You have a long time ahead of you yet, haven't you, Florence, beforeyou have to answer a question like that?" asked Virginia amusedly.
"Because I am so young?" cried Florrie. "Oh, I don't know; girls marryyoung here. Now there is Tita . . . she is our cook's sister . . . shehas two babies already and she is only four months older than I am.And . . . Look, Virgie; there is the most terrible creature in theworld. It is Kid Rickard; he killed the Las Palmas man, you know. Iam not going even to look at him; I hate him worse that CalebPatten . . . and that's like saying I hate strychnine worse thanarsenic, isn't it? But who in the name of all that is wonderful is theman with him? Isn't he the handsome thing? I never saw him before.He is from the outside, Virgie; you can tell by the fashionable cut ofhis clothes and by the way he walks and . . . Isn't he distinguished!"
"It is Elmer!" exclaimed Virginia, staring at the two figures whichwere slowly approaching from the southern end of the street. "When didhe get here? I didn't expect him. . . ."
Then she chose to forget all save the essential fact that her "babybrother" was here and ran out to the sidewalk, calling to him.
"Hello, Sis," returned Elmer nonchalantly. He was a thin,anaemic-looking young fellow a couple of years younger than Virginiawho affected a swagger and gloves and who had a cough which wasinsistent, but which he strove to disguise. And yet Florrie'shyperbole had not been entirely without warrant. He had something ofVirginia's fine profile, a look of her in his eyes, the stamp of goodblood upon him. He suffered his sister to kiss him, meantime turninghis eyes with a faint sign of interest to the fair girl on the veranda.Florrie smiled.
"Sis," said Elmer, "this is Mr. Rickard. Mr. Rickard, shake hands withmy sister, Miss Page."
A feeling of pure loathing swept over the girl as she turned to lookinto Kid Rickard's sullen eyes and degenerate, cruel face. But, sincethe Kid was a couple of paces removed and was slow about comingforward, not so much as raising his hand to his wide hat, she nodded athim and managed to say a quiet, non-committal, "How do you do?" Thenshe slipped her arm through Elmer's.
"Come, Elmer," she said hastily. "I want you to know Miss FlorenceEngle; she is a sort of cousin of ours."
"Sure," said Elmer off-handedly. "Come on, Rickard."
But the Kid, standing upon no ceremony, had drawn his hat a triflelower over his eyes and turned his shoulder upon them, continuing alongthe street in his slouching walk. Elmer, summoning youth's supremeweapon of an affected boredom, yawned, stifled his little cough andwent with Virginia to meet Florence.
Florence giggled over the introduction, then grew abruptly as grave asa matron of seventy and tactlessly observed that Mr. Page had a verybad cold; how could one have a cold in weather like this? WhereuponMr. Page glared at her belligerently, noted her little row of curls,revised his first opinion of her, set her down not only as a cousin,but as a crazy kid besides, and removed half a dozen steps to a chair.
"I don't think much of your friends," remarked Florrie, sensing suddenopposition and flying half-way to meet it.
Elmer Page produced a very new, unsullied pipe from his pocket andfilled it with an air, while Virginia looked on curiously. Having doneso and having drawn up one trouser's leg to save the crease, crossedthe leg and at last put the pipe stem into his mouth, he regardedFlorrie from the cool and serene height of his superior age.
"If you refer to Mr. Rickard," he said aloofly, "I may say that he isnot a friend . . . yet. I just met him this afternoon. But, althoughhe hasn't had the social advantages, perhaps, still he is a man ofparts."
Florrie sniffed and tossed her head. Virginia bit her lips and watchedthem.
"Been smoking too many cigs, I guess, Sis," Elmer remarked apropos ofthe initial observation of Miss Engle which still rankled. "Got aregular cigarette fiend's cough. Gave 'em up. Hitting the pipe now."
"If you knew," said Florrie spitefully, "that Mr. Rickard as you callhim had just murdered a man yesterday, what would you say then, Iwonder?"
There was a sparkle of excitement in Elmer's eyes as he swung about toanswer.
"Murdered!" he challenged. "You've heard just one side of it, ofcourse. Bisbee got drunk and insulted Mr. Rickard. They call him theKid, you know. Say, Sis, he's had a life for you! Full of adventure,all kinds of sport. And Bisbee shot first, too. But the Kid got him!"he concluded triumphantly. "Galloway told me all about it . . . andwhat a blundering rummy the fool sheriff is."
"Galloway?" queried Virginia uneasily. "You know him too, already?"
"Sure," replied Elmer. "He's a good sort, too, You'll like him. Iasked him around."
"For goodness' sake, Elmer, when did you get to San Juan? Have youbeen here a week or just a few hours?"
"Got in on the stage at noon, of course. But it doesn't take a man allyear to get acquainted in a town this size."
"A man!" giggled Florrie.
"I can see," laughed Virginia, "that you two are going to be more kinthan kind to each other; you'll be quarrelling in another moment."
Florrie looked delighted at the prospect; Elmer yawned and brooded overhis pipe. But out of the tail of his eye
he took stock again of herblonde prettiness, and she, ready from the beginning to make fun ofhim, repeated to herself the words she had used to Virginia:
"But he is handsome . . . and distinguished looking!"