CHAPTER XXX.--_Effect of Bad Precept and Worse Example._
The whir of threshing machines was heard in the valleys of the Alamarrancho, and wagons loaded with baled hay went from the fields likemoving hills. The season had been good, and the settlers, forgettingtheir past conduct, were beginning to calculate on the well-known goodnature and kind heart of the Don, to get their lands by purchasing themfrom him at a low price and easy terms when he got his patent.
Gasbang and Mathews were the only ones who still slandered the entireAlamar family, in the vilest language, having for their instigator andlegal adviser the little lawyer, Peter Roper, _protege_ of Judge Lawlackand partner of Colonel Hornblower.
Everybody in San Diego knew that Roper had made for himself a mostdiscreditable record, unblushingly vaunting of his degradation, butbecause he managed first to become a partner to the pompous ColonelHornblower, and then--"for some secret service unexpressed"--to be aspecial favorite of Judge Gryllus Lawlack, Roper was not only toleratedbut well treated. Even among the respectable people of San Diego Roperhad clients who, when he was intoxicated, or when he was obliged to keephis bed because, as it often happened, he had been too severely whippedin some drunken brawl, would patiently wait for him to get sober and onhis feet again. Why did those respectable people employ such a low,disreputable character? strangers in town asked. The answer was:"_Because Roper says he has so much influence with the Judge_?" Andverily Roper, intoxicated or sober, won his cases, for when in ignoranceof the law, he made any mistakes, which he generally did, being only anamateur lawyer, the Judge, with his rulings, would remedy the harm done,thus unwittingly, or not, assisting Roper, giving him a seemingly goodcause to boast that he had _retained the Judge_, and by so boasting getclients. Of course, many of Judge Lawlack's decisions were constantlyreversed, but the serene majesty of the law in his Honor's breast wasnot in the least disturbed by this; on the contrary, he spoke jestinglyabout being constantly reversed, and said jokingly to lawyers that ifthey desired to win their suits they should not wish him to decide intheir favor, as the Supreme Court was sure to reverse him.
Nevertheless, on the strength of his vaunted influence with the Judge,Roper had gone to the Alamar rancho to solicit the patronage of thesettlers. He was willing to take contingent fees, he said, as he wassure to win.
"But what if your friend, the Judge, is reversed, as he always is?"Roper would be asked.
"Well, then we will make a motion for a new trial, or we will call thesame suit by some other name, and file a new complaint, or do somethingelse, so as to keep in possession of the property. Possession, as longas it lasts, is ownership."
"But in the end you don't win?"
"Who says we don't? Isn't it to win if you keep in possession as long asyou live? Or, any way, as long as _my Judge_ is in office? And in officehe shall be, for I shall keep him there, if I have to swill whisky bythe barrel in election times, see if I don't."
And with this low bragging and bar-room swagger Roper managed to imposeupon people, saying that his influence kept the Judge in office, becausehe had advocated his cause and worked to have him elected. So, with hisdelusive sophistry, Peter got clients among the Alamar settlers. Whilemaking inquiries about the Alamar lands he came across the entry made byDon Mariano of the land sold to Clarence. This discovery he communicatedto Gasbang, and we have seen what resulted.
Now these two worthies were rejoicing at the effect they had caused, andwould have been happier had they known the full extent of the miserythey had inflicted. They guessed enough, however, to furnish them withmatter for their coarse jests, and Roper got intoxicated to celebratehis triumph. He, of course, came out of the tavern with a black eye, butbeing the chosen friend and political _factotum_ of the Judge, thispublic degradation was kindly condoned, and San Diego threw its cloakover the prostrate Roper, as usual, when overcome by whisky.
It would have seemed unbearable to Darrell if he had known how amusedand pleased Roper and Gasbang were to know that they had brought troubleto the Alamares, and made him ridiculous. This additional misery,however, was fortunately spared to the already much-afflicted, proudspirit. But, indeed, he suffered enough to have satisfied the mostrelentless _Nemesis_. No one guessed the extent of his misery. In fact,Clarence was the only one who suspected the existence of some secretsource of irritation goading him, and had that kind son been permittedto remain at home, he would have coaxed and persuaded his father to saywhat was torturing him. For torture it was--mental and physical. A bandof purple and black encircled his body, and his arms were of that samehue from the elbow to the shoulder. The bruises made by the tight coilof the _reata_ had left a narrow ring, which became blacker as it grewdaily wider and wider. He had done nothing to relieve the soreness, andhe went about aching so much that he could scarcely walk, and with afever to intensify his pains, he was indeed a wretched man. But all thisphysical suffering was nothing compared to the mental distress of beingbereft of his wife's cherished society. He knew that Mrs. Darrell wasgrieved to think that he was the cause of all the unhappiness broughtupon two innocent families, and this thought almost made him crazy.
He was willing to accept his bodily aches as a retributive penance forhis cruelty to Clarence, but to endure the loneliness of his room whenhis infirm body could hardly bear the weight of his bitter remorse, thatindeed seemed beyond human strength. He would go to his solitarybedroom, close the door, and extend his aching, bruised arms in silentappeal, in mute supplication to the adored wife who was now in anotherroom, at the bedside of Alice, forgetful of the entire world except thesuffering child before her, and the exiled one, for the sight of whomher heart yearned with aching pulsations.
And where was he, the best beloved, now? He lay on a sick bed,delirious, with a raging fever that seemed to be drying the veryfountain of his young life. They had not made a very quick trip to Yuma,for the hot sands of the desert seemed to burn through the very hoofs ofthe horses, and they were obliged to stop at ten o'clock A.M., and notresume their journey until past three in the afternoon. The exposure tothis excessive heat was more than Clarence had strength to endure, forhe was already ill when he arrived at Los Angeles. He was only partiallyconscious when they arrived at the mine, and Fred now gave all his timeand attention to the care of his friend. By a great effort of his mind,Clarence had succeeded in impressing upon Fred that he was, on noconsideration whatever, to tell to his family or write to anybody in SanDiego that he was ill. "They must not be made anxious," he whispered."If I get well, I'll tell them myself; if I die, they'll know it soonenough." He closed his eyes, and in a short time delirium had come tomake him forget how miserable he was.
Immediately Fred telegraphed to Hubert to send the best physician hecould induce to come to that terribly hot climate. No money or troublewas spared, for the two brothers valued Clarence too highly to neglectanything that might be for his benefit. The doctor went at once. The sumof five thousand dollars was paid down to him, and five thousand more hewould get on his return after leaving Clarence out of danger, if helived.
In the meantime, his letters, sent from Los Angeles, had arrived atAlamar, and were answered immediately. In his letters to Gabriel andGeorge, Clarence had explained that his absence must not make anydifference in the business arrangement they had made, and the projectedbank would be established by George whenever he thought fit to doso--whenever the prospect of the Texas Pacific Railroad justified it.For this purpose, and to pay for the cattle sent to the mines, he hadinstructed his banker to pay to Don Mariano three hundred thousanddollars.
Gabriel replied, thanking him, and saying that he would adhere to theoriginal plan of going to San Francisco by the first of October, when hehoped Mercita would be out of danger. If Clarence could only have readthese letters!
George answered him that he did not intend returning to New York untilMercita got better (Elvira not wishing to leave home while her sisterwas yet in danger), but that he would be ready to return to Californiaand establish their projected ba
nk at any time that the business outlookjustified it; that the chances seemed much in favor of the TexasPacific, and all were hopeful. If Clarence could only have read this!
Don Mariano wrote a cheerful letter, telling him to return at once. Thefact of the matter was that he confidently expected to see Clarence'sbright face very soon; to see those eyes of his, with their brilliantglow of kindness, emanating from a generous, manly heart. How could itbe otherwise when all that was necessary would be to recall him, andrecalled he had been?
But days and days passed, and Clarence did not come, nor any lettersfrom him either, and the month of September, which was to have broughtso much happiness, had been passed in sadness, and was now ending ingloom.
Mercedes and Alice were no longer delirious, but their condition wasstill precarious, and the anxious parents could not lay aside theirfears.
Thus the month of October passed, and November came, bringing the UnitedStates Surveyors to measure the Alamar rancho in accordance with thedecree of the United States District Court. This advent, though fullyexpected, did not fail to agitate the settlers of Alamar. It broughtbefore their minds the fact that the law, though much disregarded andsadly dilatory, did sometimes, as if unawares, uphold the right.
Gasbang and Mathews, inspired by Roper, were very active in trying tourge the settlers to some open demonstration. Roper wanted lawsuits, andhe saw a chance now to originate several; but the settlers were ratherdisposed to be quiet, and disposed to wait until the survey was finishedand approved, for, after all, what had they to do? The Don took no stepsto eject them. What pretext had they to complain?
"I expect we will have to kick _him_ out of his own house," said PeterRoper, and laughed, thinking it would be such a good joke to do that;"and by ----, if you only show me the ghost of a chance, we'll do it!"
"Why are you the Don's enemy, Roper? Did he ever do you any injury?"Romeo asked.
"Oh, my! No; why should he? I am nobody's enemy; but if I can make anymoney by kicking him out of his house, don't you suppose I'd do it? Youdon't know me if you think I wouldn't," was Roper's characteristicreply.
But his sharp yellow eyes clearly saw that Gasbang and Mathews were theonly ones really anxious to be aggressive, yet aggressive only accordingto the natural bent of their dispositions. Mathews was unscrupulous,vicious and murderous; Gasbang, unscrupulous, vicious and cowardly--hewould use no weapons but the legal trickery of Roper, aided by theindulgence of Judge Lawlack's friendship. In fact, Judge Lawlack was ahost in himself, and when that host was led on to battle by theloquacious Roper against clients who had only justice and equity ontheir side, everybody knew that Roper's brow would be crowned withhonorable laurels of fraud and falsehood and robbery, while innocentpeople were cruelly despoiled and left homeless. This, however, was(according to Roper) the _secret bargain_ between Judge Gryllus Lawlackand his favorite. This shameful debauchery of judicial power was thewages of the _political factotum_; and Roper unblushingly acknowledgedit, and _boasted_ of it--boasted openly, in his moments of exultation,when he had imbibed more whisky than was consistent with discretion;when he would become loquacious, and following the law of his being,which impelled him to swagger and vaunting, he longed to make known topeople his "_influence with the Court_." Wishing at the same time thathe was facetious, to be considered a wit, he would relate severalstories illustrative of _his power over the Judge_. One of these storieswas that of two litigants, who had had a lawsuit for a long time; atlast, one litigant came to the other and said:
"See here; you had better compromise this suit. Don't you see, on myside I have the law, the equity, the money and the talent?"
"Very true," answered the other. "You have the law, the equity, themoney and the talent, but _I have the Judge_."
And Roper would laugh, thinking himself very funny, and with a winkwould say: "Didn't I tell you I run this whole town? Of course I do,because _I have the Court in my pocket_. Give us another drink." And hestaggered for more whisky.
Could the Judge ignore that his name and office were thus publiclydragged in the mire? Certainly not, but he would merely remark that "Mr.Roper was joking," seeing no disgraceful reflection upon himself.
In the full reliance of secured power, Gasbang and Roper decided thatthey would do nothing while the survey of the rancho was going on, butwould watch and wait for developments, and then, relying upon theJudge's friendship to serve their purpose, start some plot to rob theAlamares or the Mechlins.
"Yes, we will watch and pray, brother John," Roper said, with a nasaltwang. Gasbang was a church deacon.
But Mathews had no Judge Lawlack to bedraggle justice for his sake. Sowhile Gasbang and Roper were jubilant, he became gloomy and morose. Hecould not give vent to his ill humor by shooting stray cattle now; notthat he liked Clarence any better than he liked the Don, but he hadpromised Darrell not to shoot his son's cattle, and he could not affordto break his promise and make an enemy of so useful a man as Darrell. SoMathews went back to his old love of whisky, and as his whisky was ofthe cheapest, burning poison circulated in his veins. Miss Mathews, hismaiden sister, was seriously alarmed, observing her brother's ways oflate, and would kindly remonstrate against his drinking such poorliquor.
"For you see, William, all liquor is bad, but bad liquor is worse," thepoor old maid would say, in unconscious aphorism, pleading with herhardened brother to the best of her ability.
One morning, when Mathews had been on a debauch of several days'duration, Miss Mathews walked over to Mrs. Darrell, and apologizing fornot having been to see Alice, because she had had so much trouble athome, said she wished to speak to Mr. Darrell. On being told byJane--who received her--that her father had gone to the fields wheregrain was being threshed, she left word that she would thank Mr. Darrellto call on her that evening. Agreeable to this request, Mr. Darrellstarted for Mathews' house after supper.
Slowly Darrell went over the field and across the little hollow whereGabriel had taken him off his horse. Then he followed the path he hadgalloped with the _reata_ around his body, and came to the road where hehad met the Don and tried to strike him. This was the first time Darrellhad been over this ground since that memorable day which was nowrecalled to his mind so painfully. He wondered how he could have been soblind, such a fool, not to take the right view of Clarence's actions.Ah! and where was Clarence now, that beloved first-born boy, of whom hewas so proud? In this sad meditation, with head bowed down mostdejectedly, Darrell followed the path until he came to a fence. Helooked up and saw this was the south side of Mr. Mechlin's garden. Heturned around the southeast corner and followed along the fence,remembering that going by that path he would shorten the distance toMathews' house. For a few rods Darrell walked in the path, but notwishing to be seen by the Mechlins, he left the path and walked close tothe fence, hidden by a row of olive trees. Presently he heard a man'svoice, talking and walking up and down the piazza. On the next turn hesaw it was George Mechlin carrying his baby boy in his arms, kissing himat every few words.
Darrell was pleased to see the young man kissing his child so lovingly.It reminded him of his young days when he held his own first boy likethat. Then he felt a pang shoot through his heart as he thought that ifit had not been for his wicked folly, Clarence in another year mighthave held his own child, too, in his arms, as George was now holdinghis, and that baby would have been his own grandchild! Darrell trembledwith the strength of his keen remorse--a remorse which now constantlyvisited him, invading his spirit with relentless fury, like a pitilessfoe that gave no quarter. He leaned against the fence for support andstood still, wishing to watch George caressing his baby. Meantime,George continued his walking, his talking and caressing, which Darrellcould hear was occasionally reciprocated by a sweet little cooing fromthe baby. Elvira came out on the piazza now, and he heard her say:
"Indeed, George, that baby ought to be in bed now. See, it is afterseven, and he is still awake. You keep him awake."
Mr. Mechlin also came out and took the baby, saying
he, too, must have akiss. Then Mrs. Mechlin followed, and Caroline, and all caressed thebaby, showing how dearly they loved the little thing, who took all thepetting in good part, perfectly satisfied.
At last Elvira carried him off to bed, and Darrell saw George and Mr.Mechlin go into the library and sit by the center-table to read. Hethen, with down-cast eyes, continued his walk towards Mathews' house.
He found Miss Mathews alone, with eyes that plainly showed sad traces oftears, she was sitting by the lamp darning her brother's stockings,which, like those of Darrell himself, had always holes at the heels, forthe tread of both was alike, of that positive character which revealedan indomitable spirit, and it soon wore out the heels of their socks.
After the customary inquiries for the health of the family, and theusual remarks about the crops being good, Miss Mathews went on to saythat she could no longer bear the state of her mind, and thought it washer duty to tell Mr. Darrell her fears, and prevent mischief that mightoccur, if her brother was not spoken to by somebody.
"What mischief do you fear?" Darrell asked.
"Well, you see--I can scarcely explain--for, after all, it might be alltalk of William, when he has drank that horrible whisky."
"What does he say?"
"Well, you see, he is awful sore about the appeal being dismissed, andhe blames it all on Mr. George Mechlin, and says he ought to be _shotdead_, and all other horrible talk. And now, since the surveyors came,he is worse, saying that the Don will drive us off as soon as the surveyis finished!"
"He will do nothing of the sort. He is too kind-hearted," Darrell said,and he felt the hot blush come to his face--the blush of remorsefulshame.
"That's what I think, but William don't, and I wish you would talkencouragingly to him, for he is desperate, and blames Congress forfooling settlers. He says Congress ought to be killed for fooling poorpeople into taking lands that they can't keep, and Mr. Darrell I hopeyou will talk to him. What is that?"
She started to her feet, and so did Darrell, for the report of a riflerang loud and distinct in the evening air.
"That is William's rifle. I hope he did not fire it," she said.
Darrell went to the door to listen for another shot, but none was heard,so he came back and resumed his seat.
"Three times I have taken that very rifle from William. He was going toshoot cattle, he said, and I had to remind him that the cattle nowbelong to your son."
Steps were heard now, and Mathew's face peered through the window. MissMathews gave a half-suppressed shriek, and dropped her sewing. Herbrother's face looked so ghastly pale that it frightened her. He pushedthe door and came in.
"What makes the old maid shriek like a fool?" said he.
"Your death-like face," Darrell replied.
"Nonsense!" he said, going to a side-table to pour out whisky from ademijohn he took from under it.
"Oh, William! for pity's sake! don't drink more," she begged. "It willmake you crazy, I am sure."
"Anybody might suppose I have drank a river, to hear the old hag talklike that," he snarled.
"You have not said good evening to Mr. Darrell."
"You don't give me a chance, with your infernal chatter. Mr. Darrellknows he is welcome," he said, without looking at him.
"Where is your rifle, William?" she asked.
With an oath he turned and glared at her, with distorted features.
"It is none of your business where it is. Have I to give you an accountof everything?"
"I thought you might have loaned it to somebody, for we heard it fired alittle while ago."
"Is there no rifle but mine in this valley?"
"I am sorry to say there are plenty, but I know the report of yours. Inever mistake it for any other."
Mathews became so enraged, hearing this, and so violent and abusive inhis language, that Darrell had to interfere to silence him.
"If you talk like that to your sister, I would advise her not to stayalone in this house with you," Darrell said; "her life might be indanger."
"I wish the devil would take the old hag," he retorted. "She torments mylife. I hate her."
"What is the matter with you, Billy?" Darrell asked. "Why are you soexcited?"
"It makes me mad to hear her nonsense," he said, in a calmer voice, butstill much agitated, and he again went to pour himself another drink.
Miss Mathews whispered hurriedly to Darrell: "Take away his rifle."
"Neighbor Mathews," said Darrell, "I want to send my rifle to have itfixed, will you lend me yours for a few days?"
"Take it," said he gruffly, then folding his arms on the table andleaning his head upon them, immediately sunk into a heavy sleep.
"Take the rifle with you now, Mr. Darrell, he might change his mind whenhe awakes. I'll bring it directly," said Miss Mathews, hurrying out ofthe room. Presently she returned, and in her dejected countenance keendisappointment was depicted. Dropping into her seat she whispered: "Therifle is not in the house. Somebody has taken it and fired it. I am surethat was the shot we heard. I know the ring of it."
"I'll go and see. Perhaps I'll find out who fired it," Darrell said,walking towards the front door, followed by Miss Mathews, who preferredto make a few parting suggestions outside, not sure of Billy's soundnessof sleep.
As both stepped outside the first object that met their eyes was Billy'srifle, peacefully reclining against the window.
Darrell took it up and looked at Miss Mathews perplexed. She was lookingat him aghast.
The undefined fears that neither one expressed were only too wellfounded. The rifle had been fired, and fired by Mathews with murderousintent. For several weeks, instigated by Roper and bad whisky, Mathewshad been watching an opportunity to shoot George, because he had theappeal dismissed. This evening he at last saw his chance when George waswalking the porch caressing his baby. He could not take good aim whilehe was walking, but when Elvira at last took the baby away and Georgewalked into the library, then, as he went to put the window down,Mathews aimed at his heart and fired. Fortunately the ball struck thewindow sash, deflected and glanced down, striking the hip-bone insteadof the heart.
Darrell and Miss Mathews were still looking at the rifle, as ifexpecting that by a close examination they might guess who fired it,when they were startled by Mathews uttering frightful curses andsmashing the furniture. The noise brought two hired men, who weresmoking their pipes by the kitchen fire, and they helped Darrell tograpple with the maniac and pinion his arms, tying him to a chair.
Miss Mathews was greatly shocked to see her brother crazy, but she hadbeen expecting it. She quietly consented to have him taken to an insaneasylum.