The Lone Ranche. A tale of the 'Staked Plain.'

Front matter

THE LONE RANCHE. % Cale of % ' jSiakrir |)(a'ui.' BY CAPTAIN MAINE REID, AUTHOR OF ' THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.' IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY. 1871. \_AU rights reserved.-] london: BOBEON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W CONTENTS OF VOL. IT. CHAP. PAGE i. The Land of the ' Lex Talionis' . . i ii. En Confidence 16 III. A MYSTERIOUS DESPATCH . . . .26 iv. Convalescent . . . . . -34 v. A stricken Giant . . . . .41 vi. A Proposal by Proxy . . . -51 vii. Brother and Sister . . . -59 viii. Soldiers on the March . . . 72 ix. A Halt ....... 83 x. Stalking the Stalkers . . . .92 xi. The Song interrupted . . . .100 xii. A Night of Anxiety . . . .108 xiii. A Straggler picked up . . . .120 xiv. Old Acquaintances . . . .128 xv. Farther Cross-questioning . . . 136 xvi.

A 'Norte' 143 xvii. A Eush for Shelter . . . .154 xviii. The split Trail CONTENTS. IV CflAP. PAGE xix. A sylvan Scene . . . . ■ I73 xx. A fiendish Scheme . . . .182 xxi. Awaiting the Assassins . . .190 xxii. A singular Despatch . . . .201 xxiii. A new Determination . . . .210 xxiv. Conditions of Freedom . . . .218 xxv. A Sister sorely tried . . . .228 xxvi. The last Appeal 238 xxvii. The Execution ordered . . . 247 xxviii. The Hand of God . .... 254 xxix. A Eescue . . . . . .261 xxx. The Chase 270 xxxi. A new Mode of Hanging . . .277 xxxij. What came after ..... THE L01\TE RANCHE CHAPTEE I. THE LAND OF THE ' LEX TALIONIS.' During the quarter of a century preceding the annexation of New Mexico to the United States, that distant province of the Mexican Republic, like all the rest of the country, was the scene of constantly recurring revolutions.

Every discontented captain, colonel, or general, who chanced to be in command of a district, there held sway as a dictator ; and so demeaned himself, that martial and military rule had become established as the living law of the land. The civic authorities rarely possessed more than the semblance of VOL. II. A power ; and where they did it was wielded iii the most flagitious manner. The most arbitrary acts were committed, under the pretext of patriot ism, or duty. No man's life was safe, who fell under the displeasure of the ruling military chief tain ; and woman's honour was held in equally slight respect. In the northern frontier provinces of the Re public, this irresponsible power of the soldiery was peculiarly despotic and harassing. There, two causes contributed to establish, and keep it in the ascendancy: one of which was, the revo lutionary condition of the country, which, as else where, had become chronic.

Chapter II. En Confidence

Only a short interval, not more than a score of seconds, had elapsed when the door, once more opening, displayed to Uraga his visitor. Roblez, after ushering him into the room, withdrew ; and commenced pacing to and fro in the patio. Gil Uraga felt inclined to laugh, as he contemplated the new-comer, and reflected on the precautions he had taken. A poor devil of an Indian peon, in coarse woollen tilma, tanned sheepskin trousers reaching only to the knee, bare legs below, gua rachcs upon his feet, and a straw hat upon his head — his long black hair hanging unkempt and neglected over his shoulders. A mien humble, and eyes downcast, like all of his tribe. Yet it could be seen that, on occasion, those eyes could glow with a light that might indicate danger — a fierce fiery light, such as may have shone in the orbs of his ancestors when they rallied around Guatimozin, and with clubs and stakes beat back the spears and swords of their Spanish invaders.

At the entrance of this unpretentious person age into the splendidly - furnished apartment, his first act was to pull off his tattered straw hat, and make humble obeisance to tbe gorgeouslyattired officer who sat beside the table. Up to this time Uraga had supposed the man to be a stranger ; but when the broad brim of the sombrero no longer cast its shadow over his face, and his eyelids became elevated through increas ing confidence, the colonel sprang to his feet with an exclamatory phrase that told of recogni tion. 'Manuel,' he said; 'you are Manuel, the ser vant of Don Valerian Miranda ?' ' Si, sefior coronel; a servicio de V ('Yes, colonel; at your excellency's service'), was the reply humbly spoken, and accompanied with a second sweep of the straw hat — as gracefully as if given by a Chesterfield.

At sight of this old acquaintance, a world of wild thoughts rushed crowding through the brain of Gil Uraga — conjecture, mingled with hopeful anticipation. For it came back to his memory, that at the time of Miranda's escape, some of his domestics had gone off with him, and he remembered that Manuel was one of them. In the Indian standing so respectfully before him, he saw, or fancied he saw, the first link of a chain, that might enable him to trace the fugitives. Manuel should know something about their whereabouts ; and Manuel was now in his power for any purpose — for life or for death. There was that in the air and attitude of the Indian, that told him there would be no need to resort to compulsory measures. Tbe information he desired could be had without this ; and he resolved to seek it, by adopting an opposite course. ' My poor fellow,' he said, ' you look distressed — as if you had just come from a long toilsome journey.

Here, take a taste of something to re cuperate your strength ; then you can repeat what you've got to say. I presume you've some com munication to make to me, as the military com mandant of the district. Night or day, I am always ready to give a hearing, to those who bring information that concerns the welfare of the State.' As he finished speaking, the colonel poured out a strong glass of the distilled mezcal juice ; which Manuel took from his hand ; and, nothing loath, spilled between his two rows of white glit tering teeth. Upon him, unused to it, the fiery liquor was almost instantaneous in its effects ; and in a moment after, he became freely communicative — if not so disposed before. But he had been ; there fore the disclosures that followed were less due to the alcohol, than to a passion far more inflam matory. ' I've missed you from about here, Manuel,' said the colonel, making his approaches with skill. ' Where have you been all this while ?' ' With my master,' was the peon's reply. ' Ah, indeed ; I thought your master had gone clear out of the country ?' ' Out of the settled part of it only, sector ' 0 ! he is still, then, within Mexican territory ?

I am glad to hear it. I was sorry to think we had lost such a good citizen, and true patriot, as Colonel Miranda. True, he and I differed in our views as regards government ; but that's no thing, you know, Manuel. Men may be bitter political enemies, yet good friends for all that. By the way, where is the colonel now ?' Despite his apparent stolidity, the peon was not so shallow as to be misled by talk like this. With a full knowledge of the situation — forced upon him by various events — the badinage of the brilliant militario did not for a moment blind him. Circumstances had given him enough insight into Uraga's character, and position, to know that the latter's motives somewhat resembled his own. He knew that the colonel-commandant was in love with his young mistress, as much as he himself with her maid.

Without this knowledge he might not have been there — at least not with so confi dent an expectation of success in the design that had brought him — for design he had, deep and traitorous. Despite the influence of the aguardiente, fast loosening his tongue, he was yet a little cautious in his communications ; and not until Uraga had repeated the question did he make reply to it. Then came the answer, slowly and reluctantly, as if from one of his long-suffering race, who had discovered a mine of the precious metals, and_ was being put to the torture to denounce it. ' Sector coronel,' he said, 'how much will your excellency give to know where my master now is ? I have heard that there is a very large bounty offered for Don Valerian's head.' ' That is an affair that concerns the State, Manuel.

I have nothing personally to do with it. Still, as an officer of the government, it is my duty to do all I can towards making your master a prisoner. I think I might promise some reward to any one, who could produce a fugitive rebel, and bring him before the bar of justice. Can you do that ?' ' No, your excellency ; not so much as that. I'm only a poor peon, and not powerful enough. To attempt making a prisoner of Don Valerian Miranda would cost me my life, and the lives of many more like me. It will take strong soldiers to do that.' ' Talking of strength, my good Manuel, you don't seem to have quite recovered yours. You must have had a very fatiguing journey. Take another copita ; you are in need of it, and it will do you good.' Pressure of this sort put upon an Indian peon is rarely resisted.

Nor was it in this case. The Pueblo readily yielded to it, and drank off another glass of the aguardiente. Before the strong alcohol could have fairly settled in his stomach, its fumes were ascending into his skull. The cowed cautious manner — a marked cha racteristic of his race — soon forsook him ; the checkstrings of his tongue became fully relaxed; and, with nothing remaining before his mind save the one scheme of securing Conchita, he betrayed the whole secret of Colonel Miranda's escape — the story of his retreat across the Staked Plain, and his residence in the Lone Ranche. When he told of the two guests who had strayed to the solitary valley, and, despite his maudlin talk, minutely described the men, his listener sprang up with an oath, accompanied by a gesture of such violence as to overturn the table — sending cigars, decanter, and glasses to the floor !

He did not look to see the damage righted ; but with a loud shout, that reverberated through out tbe whole house, summoned in his adjutant, and after him the corporal of the guard. ' Cabof he said, addressing himself to the latter in a tone at once vociferous and command ing, ' take this man to the guard-house, and see you keep him there — so that he be forthcoming when wanted. If he be missing, cabo, you shall be shot ten minutes after I receive the report of his disappearance. Take the word of your colonel for that.' From the way that the corporal laid hold of the surprised peon — almost throttling him — it was evident he did not intend running much risk of being shot for letting his prisoner escape ; while the Indian appeared suddenly sobered by the rough treatment he was receiving. But he was still too much astonished to find speech for pro test ; dumb, and without making the slightest re sistance, he was dragged out through the open doorway — to all appearance more dead than alive. 'Come, ayudante,' cried the colonel-com mandant, as soon as the door had closed behind the guard corporal and his prisoner. ' Drink ! let us drink ! first to revenge.

It is not accom plished as yet. No, it has all to be gone over again ; but it is sure now — surer than ever. After that, we shall drink to my success in love. That is not hopeless, yet. She is found again — found, ayudante ! Ah ! my pretty Adela !' he exclaimed, staggering towards the portrait, and in tipsy glee contemplating it; 'you thought to escape me — but no. No one can get away from Gil Uraga — friend, sweetheart, or enemy. You shall yet be mine, enfolded in these arms — if not as my wife, as something that will serve just as well — my margarita '.'

Chapter III

A MYSTERIOUS DESPATCH. Uraga did not long continue his carousal in com pany with Roblez. He had an important matter upon his mind ; and, after the excitement caused by the peon's communication had to some extent given way to calmer reflection, he dismissed his adjutant, who went back to the military cuartel. Though taking part with his colonel in many a criminal transaction, and having a share in the spoils, Roblez left all the planning to the superior officer ; who on his side had secrets he did not always divulge to his subordinate. He was despotic even in his villanies, and brooked no in terference with his schemes. And he had now conceived one of a nature he did not care to make known to any man, not even to Roblez, until such time as he might think it befitting the latter should know it.

It was not that he dreaded any treachery on the part of his fellow-freebooter. There was no danger of that. They were too much mutually compromised to tell tales upon one another. Besides, Roblez, although a man of courage, had a strong fear of Uraga ; for he knew him to be one who — his hostility being once gained, or his vengeance provoked — would stop at nothing short of complete and terrible re tribution. Hence the control which his colonel had over him ; so great, that while using him as an aid in his deeds of spoliation, be was still only rewarded by a limited share in the profits. Uraga's chief motive for concealing many of his schemes from his adjutant was due more than aught else to a moral peculiarity. He was of a strangely-constituted nature ; secretive to the last degree — a quality on which he prided himself.

It was his delight to deal in this habit, whenever the opportunity offered — just as it is with the cheat and the detective policeman. Secrecy gave him pleasure. After the adjutant had left him, he remained for some time alone, reflecting ; and then, calling the corporal of the guard, he directed the latter once more to bring the Indian before bim. The prisoner — still wondering why he had been made such — soon appeared, in charge of the corporal ; who was commanded to close the door and remain in waiting outside. Thus closeted, Uraga put the peon through a fresh process of examina tion ; which elicited other facts in relation to those about whom he was so much interested. In short, he made himself minutely acquainted with everything that had occurred — the peon having been once more pacified, and his tongue for the second time untied, by a fresh lubrication of alcoholic liquor.

Among other things, he was questioned about the situation of the valley where the refugees had found an asylum ; the direction, distance, and means of access to it; in short, its complete topography. These questions he could answer satisfactorily, and did. He was then strictly examined about the personages there residing, especially the two strangers who had come as guests — when they had arrived, their reception, behaviour, and doings. These last interrogatories disclosed to Uraga a state of things — one fact in particular, that caused the blood to run rushing through his heart, and brought over his countenance a look of such bitter malignity, that the traitor, in fear for his own safety, repented having told him of it. It was the tender relations that had been established between Frank Hamersley and the Senorita Adela, of which the peon was aware.

He could not have been otherwise without closing his eyes ; and while occupied in his espionage after Con chita he had kept them continually open. When the cross-questioning was finished, and he had told all he knew, Uraga once more com mitted him to the charge of the guard-corporal ; at the same time promising that his incarceration was only precautionary, and would not be for long. As soon as he was taken out, Uraga betook himself to a writing-desk that stood on one side of the sala, and opening it, he sat down, drew vol. 11. c forth a sheet of writing paper, and commenced scribbling upon it. What he wrote had the appearance of an epistle ; but whatever it was, the composition occupied him some little time. Occasionally he stopped using tbe pen, as though pausing to reflect on what should be written.

When it was at length completed, apparently to his satisfaction, he folded the sheet, thrust a stick of sealing-wax into the flame of the candle, and sealed the document ; but without using any seal-stamp. A small silver coin taken from his pocket gave the necessary impression. There did not appear to be any name appended to the epistle, if one it was ; and the superscription now written upon the outside showed only the two words, ' Por Sanchez' (For Sanchez). A spring-bell that stood on the top of the secretario being touched, a man entered the room — one of the ordinary domestics. ' Go to the stables,' commanded his master, ' or the corral, or wherever he is, and tell Pedrillo that I want him. Be quick about it !' The man bowed, and went off. ' It will take them — how many days to reach the Tenawas' town, and how many back to the Pecos ?' soliloquised Uraga, pacing the floor, as he made his calculations. ' Three, four, five ; no matter.

If before them, I can wait till they come. —Pedrillo !' Pedrillo had made his appearance ; an Indian of the tame tribe, not greatly differing from the man Manuel, and of a countenance quite as sinis ter. But we have seen Pedrillo before : since he was one of the two muleteers who had conducted the atajo carrying the goods from the despoiled caravan of the prairie traders. ' Pedrillo,' commanded his master, ' catch a couple of the best horses in the corral — one for yourself, the other for Jose. Have them saddled, and get yourselves ready for a journey of two weeks, or so. Make all haste with your preparations. These made, come back here, and report yourself.' The muleteer disappeared ; and Uraga con tinued to pace the floor, still apparently buried in a mental measurement of time and distance.

At intervals he would stop before the portrait on the wall, and for a second or two gaze upon it. This seemed to increase his impatience for the reap pearance of Pedrillo. He had not very long to wait. The scrip and staff of a New Mexican traveller of the peon class is of no great weight or complexity. It takes but a short while to prepare it. A few tortillas and frijoles, a head or two of ehile Colorado, half-a dozen onions, and a bunch of jerked-beef (tasajo). Having collected these comestibles, and filled his xuaje or water-gourd, Pedrillo reported him self ready to take the road, or trail, or whatever sort of path, and on whatever errand it might please his master to dispatch him. ' You will go straight to the Tenawa town — Horned Lizard's — on the south branch of the Goo al-pah. You can find your way to the place, Pedrillo ?

You've been there before ?' Pedrillo nodded in the affirmative. ' Take this.' Here Uraga handed him the sealed epistle. ' See that you show it to no one you may meet, before getting beyond the settlements. Give it to the Horned Lizard, or you may hand it to Sanchez himself — it's for him. You are to ride night and day, as fast as the horses can carry you. When you've delivered it, you needn't wait, but come back — not here, but to the Alamo. You know the place, where we met the Tenawas some weeks ago ? You will find me there. Vaya !' On receiving these instructions, Pedrillo van ished from the room — a strange sinister cast in bis oblique Indian eye telling that he knew himself to be once more, what he had often been before — an emissary of evil. Uraga took another turn or two across the floor ; and then, seating himself by the table, once more sought solace for his tortured soul by drinking deep of the mezcal whisky of Tequila.

Chapter IV. Convalescent

Thanks to the skill of the old army-surgeon, Hamersley's strength became rapidly restored to him. A tender nurse had doubtless something to do with his quick recovery, as likewise the regain ing of his spirits. Long before becoming con valescent, he had ceased to lament the loss of his property ; and only felt sadness when he thought of his brave followers, who had fallen in the en deavour to protect it from the savage pillagers. Day by day the retrospect of the red carnage lost something of its horrifying hues — the too vivid tints becoming gradually blended with thoughts more tranquil, and beams more benignant. They were not the beams of the sun, whose CONVALESCENT. 35 lucid light from a sapphire sky shone daily down into that sweet oasis of the desert. Not these that were effecting the metamorphosis, so sooth ing to his spirit ; though in truth was it a lovely spot, into which a chance, at first so sinister, but afterwards so fortunate, had conducted him.

The vale itself, with its soft clustering groves, exhi biting tbe varied foliage of evergreen oaks, pecans, and wild china-trees ; its arbours of mulberry trel lised with grape-vines ; its rock-bound rivulet, here forming a tranquil sheet smooth as the surface of a mirror, there leaping off into the dance of the foaming cascade, like a string of merry maidens with white dresses floating behind them — all these of fered an enchanting landscape. Placed as it was in the midst of tbe brown barren desert, strangely contrasting with the sterility around, it resembled some exquisitely-painted picture set in a plain frame, or a bright jewelled decoration upon a coat ragged and russet. In truth was it a delectable spot — worthy to be the abode of an angel. The young prairie merchant could well fancy it to be so inhabited.

So far from having changed his mind, since he penned that word on the piece of paper left upon the palmilla, he was only the more confirmed that he had written the truth. If Adela Miranda was not an angel, she was a being of perhaps equally pleasant companionship — at least so thought Frank Hamersley, before he had been a week under the same roof with her. Hers was a beauty of a rare and peculiar kind; not common anywhere, and only seen among the doncellas, in whose veins courses the blue blood of Andalusia ; withal, a beauty that might per haps rebel against the standard of taste set up in the icy northland. The dark tracery upon her upper lip might have looked a little bizarre in a ball-room, amid Saxon belles; just as her sprightly spirit might have offended the sentiment of a strait-laced Puritanism.

It had no such effect upon Frank Hamers ley. On the contrary, to the young Kentuckian, the child of a land above all others free from con ventionalism — to a nature like his, attuned to the picturesque — these peculiarities were but points to pique his fancy, and fix it. They had done this. CONVALESCENT. 37 Long before leaving his couch in convalescence, there was but one world for him — that whose atmosphere was breathed by Adela Miranda ; but one being in it — herself. It must have been decreed by Heaven that these two hearts should come together. Else, why in such a strange place brought into juxtaposition, and by such a singular contingency of circumstances ? Nothing seemed to stand between them now — not even the zealous watchfulness of a brother. Don Valerian appeared to neglect every thought of fraternal duty — if such had ever occurred to him.

His time was chiefly taken up in roving around the valley with Walt Wilder, or making more distant excursions in the companionship of the ci-devant ranger, who narrated to him many a strange chapter in the life-lore of the prairies. Wheu Walt chanced to be indoors, he also had something to occupy him, which hindered him from too frequently intruding upon his invalid comrade, or the nurse who so tenderly watched over him. For the colossus had succumbed to a similar fate. He too had become the victim of a love-passion. A pair of jet-black eyes, set in a countenance of bistre-colour, with a row of pearly teeth, and just a touch of damask-red blushing out upon the cheeks, had done tbe business for Walt. Such were the eyes, teeth, and complexion of Conchita, the little half-Indian damsel, who, long domesti cated with the family of the Mirandas, had fol lowed the fortunes of her young mistress into the heart of the Llano Estacado.

Quite as little dreaded was the intrusion of Don Prospero. Absorbed in his favourite study of Nature, the ancien medico passed most of his hours in communion with her. More than half the day was he out of doors — chasing lizards into their crevices among the rocks — impaling insects on the spikes of the wild maguey plant, or pluck ing such flowers as seemed new to the classifica tion of the botanist. In these tranquil pursuits, as Don Valerian had said, he was perhaps happier than all around — even those whose hearts throbbed with that supreme passion, so full of sweetness, but often the very acme of bitterness. As for the two Pueblo peons, Manuel and Chico, no one CONVALESCENT. 39 thought of them. Clothed in their coarse woollen tilmas, the humble garb of servitude, they went about their daily toil and tasks, at meeting of their white masters doffing their palm-plait hats, and making humblest obeisance.

Yet one of these men — he who was called Man uel — showed at times a very different disposition. He possessed naturally a sinister, almost fierce, cast of countenance, that at once challenged anti pathy. Only a knowledge of the fidelity he had shown to Colonel Miranda and his sister could have hindered Don Valerian's guests from disliking him. He did not seem to like them, though there was no declared exhibition of it. This he would not have dared, however intense his hostility. But although unobserved, a strange fire might have been seen at times burning in his eyes — a fixed, steady spark, like that which gleams and glows in the orbs of a rattlesnake about to spring upon its prey. It was when his glance rested upon the girl Conchita — especially when he saw her in con verse with, and listening too tenderly to, the speeches of the Texan ex-ranger.

If in that remote spot there were loves refined and romantic as those of Romeo and Juliet, there was also a passion grotesque and terrible as that of Quasimodo. It was this passion of the Pueblo peon that had impelled him to the act of ingrati tude and treason already chronicled. fer HI

Chapter V

A STRICKEN GIANT. About a week after the young Kentuckian had risen from his invalid couch, and was able to be abroad, Walt Wilder, touching him on the sleeve, requested to have his company at a distance from the dwelling. Hamersley acceded to the request, though not without some wonderment. In the demeanour and movements of his colossal comrade there was something odd, almost mysterious. As this was unusual with Walt, he had evidently some com munication to make of an important character. Not until they had got well out of sight of the cabin, and beyond earshot of any one inside or around it, did Walt say a word ; and then only, after they had come to a stop in the heart of a thick grove of hackberries, where a prostrate trunk offered them the accommodation of a seat. Sitting down upon it, and motioning his com panion, still with the same mysterious air, to do likewise, the ex-ranger at length began to un burden himself. 'Frank,' said he, ' I've brought ye out hyar to hev a leetle spell o' talk on a subjeck as consarns this coon very consid'able.' ' What subject, Walt ?' ' Wal, it's about weemen ' Women ! why, Walt Wilder, I should have supposed that would be the farthest thing from your thoughts, especially at such a time and in such a place as this.' 'Wal, Frank, ef this chile don't misunner stan' the sign, they ain't the furrest thing from yur thoughts, at this hyar time an' place.' The significance of his comrade's remark caused the colour to flush up to the cheeks of the young prairie merchant, late a little pale.