Stronghand: or, The Noble Revenge

In fact, it would take three weeks to proceed from the hacienda to Hermosillo and back, even at a good pace, and yet the majordomo had only been absent for nine days. It was evident to the senator that Paredes had not been to Hermosillo, and yet he brought back the money for the bills! What did all this mean? There was something obscure in the whole affair, which Don Rufino burned to clear up; but, unhappily, that was very difficult, if not impossible.

He was supposed to be ignorant of the motive of the majordomo's journey, and consequently could not interrogate him; and then, again, even had he ventured to do so, Paredes would probably not have answered him, or, if he had done so, it would only have been in mockery; for the worthy majordomo, with the infallible scent which upright and faithful men possess, had detected the wolf in sheep's clothing, and although he had no apparent motive, as he was unaware that the senator was the concoctor of the plot to which he had all but fallen a victim, he felt an instinctive aversion for that person, and displayed a marked affectation in trying to avoid any meeting with him.

In Sonora, as in other countries, it is not easy to meet at a moment's notice persons who will discount large bills to render you a service. The man who had given the money for these must be very rich, and most desirous to assist the Marquis. However much the senator thought of the subject, he could not call to mind any landowner for fifty leagues round capable of acting in such a way. Moreover, the discounter must have been aware of the plot formed against the majordomo, for otherwise he would not have proposed to take the bills. Could Kidd be the traitor? In a moment the senator recognised the absurdity of such a suspicion. It was not probable that the bandit had declined to kill the majordomo; but that he should have allowed him to escape without robbing him was an utterly unlikely circumstance. Moreover, Kidd had everything to fear from the senator, and would not have risked playing him such a malicious trick.

As always happens when a man indulges in probabilities without any settled starting point, and proceeds from one deduction to another, Don Rufino attained such a monstrous conclusion, that he was really terrified by it. Still, throughout all his wanderings, a very logical remark escaped him, which proved that, if he had not discovered the truth, he was not very far from it.

"The Redskins are right," he muttered, "and their proverb is true. In the desert, trees have ears, and leaves have eyes. I remember that my conversation with that pícaro of a Kidd took place near a very close growing thicket; perhaps it contained a traitor. Henceforward I will only discuss business at the top of an entirely unwooded hill; and yet," he added with a sigh, "who knows whether a spy may not be concealed in a prairie-dog hole?"

All these reflections the senator made while walking in extreme agitation up and down the room, when the door opened, and Don Ruiz made his appearance.

"Señor Don Rufino," he said to him, after a mutual exchange of compliments, "will you kindly come to the drawing room? Our majordomo, who, as you may have noticed, has been absent for some days, has brought most important news, which my father would like you to hear."

The senator started imperceptibly, and gave the young man a suspicious glance; but nothing in Don Ruiz's open face caused him to suppose any hidden meaning in his words.

"Is anything extraordinary happening, my dear Don Ruiz?" he asked, in a mellifluous voice.

"I have as yet received but very imperfect information about the grave events that threaten us; but if you will kindly follow me, you will soon learn all."

"Be it so, my dear sir – I am at your service;" and he followed Don Ruiz to the saloon, where Doña Marianna, the Marquis, and José Paredes were already assembled.

"Why, what can be the matter, my dear señor?" the senator asked, as he entered; "I confess that Don Ruiz has startled me."

"You will be more startled when you know the events. But sit down, pray," the Marquis answered, and then said to the majordomo, "you have your information from a good source?"

"I can assert that all I have told you is true, mi amo. The Papazos have allied themselves with I know not how many other tribes of ferocious pagans, and we may expect to see them burst upon us at any moment."

"¡Caspita! that is serious," the senator said.

"Much more than you suppose; for the Indians are this time resolved to expel the white men for ever from Sonora, and establish themselves in their place," answered Paredes.

"Oh, oh," Don Rufino said, "they are undertaking a rude task."

"Laugh if you like, but it is so."

"I do not laugh, my worthy friend; still, I do not believe the Indians capable of attempting so mad an enterprise."

"In the first place, I am not your friend, señor," the majordomo said, roughly; "and next, it is probable that when you have seen the Indians at work, your opinions about them will be considerably modified."

The senator pretended not to notice the bitterness contained in this remark, and replied, lightly – "I never saw any wild Redskins, and Heaven preserve me from doing so. Still, I strongly suspect the inhabitants of this country of making them more formidable than they really are."

"You are wrong to have such an opinion, my friend; and if you remain any time with us, will soon have proof of it," the Marquis said.

"Are you going to remain here, exposed to the attacks of the pagans, papa?" Doña Marianna asked with terror.

"We have nothing to fear from the Indians," the Marquis replied. "The rock on which my hacienda is built is too hard for them. They will break their nails before they can pull out a single stone."

"Still, father, we cannot be too prudent," Don Ruiz observed.

"You are right, my son; and as I do not wish your sister to retain even a shadow of anxiety, we will immediately place ourselves in a position of defence, though it is unnecessary. During the grand insurrection of 1827, the Indians did not once attempt to approach El Toro, and I greatly doubt whether they will attack it this time."

"Mi amo," Paredes replied, "believe me, do not neglect any precaution; this insurrection will be terrible."

"Come, come," Don Rufino asked, "tell me, Señor Majordomo, who the person is that informed you so well?"

Paredes gave him a side-glance, and replied, with a shrug of his shoulders – "It is enough that I know it; no matter the name of the man to whom I owe the information. If you fancy that it is a friend who warned me, you will be near the truth."

"Permit me, señor," the senator answered, with a frown, "this is more important than you fancy. You must not thus create an alarm in a family, and then refuse to give proofs in support of your assertions."

"My master knows me, señor; he knows that I am devoted to him, and also that I am incapable of uttering a falsehood."

"I do not doubt, señor, either your honesty or your truthfulness; still, a thing so serious as you announce requires, before being taken into consideration, to be based on evidence with proofs, or a respectable name, in default of anything else."

"Stuff! Stuff! The main point is to be on your guard."

"Yes, when we know whether we really ought to do so. Consequently, in my quality as a magistrate – and I ask the Señor Marquis a million pardons for acting thus in his presence – I command you to reveal to me at once the name of the man who gave you these alarming news."

"Nonsense!" The majordomo said, with a shrug of his shoulders; "What good would it do if I were to tell you the name of an individual you do not know, and whom you never heard mentioned?"

"That is not the question. Be good enough to answer me, if you please."

"It is possible that you may be a magistrate, señor, and I do not care if you are. I recognise no other masters but the Señor Marquis and his children here present; they alone have the right to question me, and them alone I will answer."

The senator bit his lips, and turned to the Marquis.

"Come, Paredes, answer," the latter said. "I really do not at all understand your obstinacy."

"Since you order me to speak, mi amo," the majordomo continued, "you must know that the person who told me of the insurrection of the pagans is a white hunter, called Stronghand."

"Stronghand?" brother and sister exclaimed simultaneously.

"Is not that," the Marquis asked, "the hunter to whom we already are so greatly indebted?"

"Yes, mi amo," the majordomo replied, musingly; "and it is probable that he has not yet finished."

Although it was the first time the senator heard the hunter's name mentioned, by a kind of intuition he felt a species of emotion for which he could not account.

"Oh," Doña Marianna cried, eagerly, "we must place entire confidence in Stronghand's statements."

"Certainly we must," Don Ruiz added. "It is plain that he wished to warn us, and put us on our guard."

"But who is this man who inspires you with such profound sympathy?" the senator asked.

"A friend," Doña Marianna replied, warmly, "for whom I shall feel an eternal gratitude."

"And whom we all love," the Marquis added, with emotion.

"Then you accept his bail for Paredes?"

"Yes; and believe me, my friend, that I shall not neglect the advice he gives me."

"Very good, señor; you will therefore permit me to remark that Señor Paredes' obstinacy in not revealing his name must fairly appear to me extraordinary."

"Señor Rufino, Paredes is an old servant who enjoys a very pardonable freedom, and believes that he has acquired the right of being believed on his word. Now," he added, "let us discuss the means to prevent a surprise. Paredes, you will at once mount your horse, and order all the peons and vaqueros to bring the ganado and horses into the hacienda. You, Don Ruiz, will prepare the necessary corrals and cuartos to lodge the men and animals; collect as much forage and provisions as you can, for, in the event of a siege, we must not run the risk of being reduced by famine. How many peons have you under your orders, Paredes?"

"Excellency, we have about eighty able to bear arms, and do active duty, without counting the women, children, and old men, whom we can always turn to some account."

"Oh, oh," the Marquis said, "there are many more than we require; I see that it will be unnecessary to summon our miners from Quitovar."

"The more so," Paredes objected, "because Captain de Niza, whose position is far more exposed than ours will already have enlisted them in his service."

"That is probable," the Marquis answered, as he rose. "Go and carry out my orders without delay."

The majordomo bowed to his master, and went out.

"Will it please you, señor, to grant me a moment's interview?" the senator then said.

"I am at your orders, señor."

"Oh, do not disturb yourselves," the senator said, addressing Don Ruiz and his sister, who had risen to leave the room: "I have nothing secret to say to the Marquis."

The young people sat down again.

"I confess to you that what this man has just said," Don Rufino continued, "has greatly startled me. I never saw any Indian bravos, and have a horrible fear of them. I should therefore wish, Don Hernando, however strange so sudden a request may appear to you, to obtain your permission to leave you so soon as possible."

"Leave me!" the Marquis replied, with amazement, "At this moment?"

"Yes; it seems as if coming events will be very serious. I am not a man of war, nor anything like it, for I am frightened at anything that bears a likeness to a quarrel; but Congress claims my immediate presence at Mexico, were it only to inform the Government of the situation in which this state is, and urge it to assume energetic measures."

"Señor Don Rufino, you are at liberty to act as you please. Still, I fear that the roads are not quite safe, and that you will expose yourself to serious dangers by obstinately insisting on departing."

"I have thought of that; but I fancy that when I have once reached Arispe, which is no great distance from here, I shall have nothing more to fear. Will you allow Don Señor Ruiz to escort me to that town?"

"I can refuse you nothing, señor. My son will accompany you, since you do him the honour of desiring his escort."

"Yes," the senator continued, taking a side-glance at Doña Marianna, who had let her head drop on her chest; "I wish to entrust Don Ruiz with an important letter for you."

"Why write? It would be far more simple to tell me what you wish in a couple of words."

"No! No! That is impossible," Don Rufino answered, with a smile that resembled a grimace; "that would demand too much time: moreover, dear sir, you know better than I do that there are certain things which can only be settled by ambassadors."

"As you please, señor. When do you propose to start?"

"I frankly confess that, in spite of the regret I feel at leaving you, I fancy that the sooner I set out the better."

"It is only ten o'clock," said Don Ruiz, as he rose; "by hurrying a little, we can reach Arispe tonight."

"Famous! That is better. Allow me, Don Hernando, to take leave of you, as well as of your charming daughter, and pray accept my thanks for the noble hospitality I have received in your mansion."

"What! Are you not afraid of travelling in the great heat of the day?"

"I only fear the sight of the Indians, and that fear is enough to make me forget all others. Excuse me, therefore, for leaving you so suddenly, but I feel convinced that I should die of terror if I heard the war cry of those frightful savages echo in my ears."

Don Ruiz had left the room to give the requisite orders, and his sister followed him, after making a silent curtsey to the senator, whose intention she was far from suspecting. The apprehension expressed by Don Rufino was greatly exaggerated, if it was not entirely fictitious; but he instinctively felt that the ground was beginning to burn beneath his feet at the hacienda, and he wanted to get away, not only to guard himself against the perils he foresaw from the ill success of his plot, but also to try and refasten the broken threads of his intrigue, and carry out his plans with the shortest possible delay.

The revolt of the Indians, by interrupting the work, paralyzing commercial transactions, and consequently creating enormous difficulties for the Marquis, admirably assisted the senator in the realization of the plans he had long been forming in the dark. Moreover he desired, during the short ride he was going to take with Don Ruiz, to obtain in the young man a precious ally, who would serve him the better because he would do so without any afterthought, and without seeing Don Rufino's object. He also thought it better to write and detail his intentions to the Marquis in a letter, rather than discuss them with him, for the grand diplomatic reason that the man who writes is the only speaker, must be heard, and consequently does not fear a refutation till he has completely explained his ideas.

After a few moments, Don Ruiz returned to state that the escort had mounted, and that all was ready for a start. Don Rufino repeated his farewells to the Marquis, but the latter would not let him depart before he had drunk, according to the hospitable fashion of the country, the stirrup cup – that is to say, a glass of iced orangeade. Then all three left the room, for in spite of the entreaties and objections of the senator, his host insisted on accompanying him to the patio, and witnessing his departure. Two minutes later, Don Rufino Contreras, accompanied by Don Ruiz, and followed by six confidential peons, well armed and mounted, left the hacienda, and took the direction of Arispe, which they reached at nightfall; after a rather fatiguing journey, it is true, but which, however, was not troubled by any accident of an alarming nature. The only thing the travellers noticed, and which proved to them how thoroughly the news of an approaching invasion of the Indians had spread along the border, was the complete solitude of the country, which resembled a desert.

All the ranchos they passed were deserted; the doors, windows, and furniture had been removed by the inhabitants, and carried off by them in their flight; they had burned or destroyed all they were compelled to leave behind them; their horses and cattle had also disappeared, which gave a look of indescribable melancholy to the numerous plains the little party crossed. The crops had been cut in the green, or burned, in order that the Indians might not profit by them; and thus, ere the wretched country was ravaged by the Redskins, it had already been completely ruined by its inhabitants.

Don Rufino contemplated with stupor the desolate aspect of the country, for he could not at all understand the strange tactics of the inhabitants. When they reached the gates of Arispe, they found them closed, and guarded by powerful detachments of soldiers and cívicos – a species of national militia, paid by the rich inhabitants to repress the devastation of the marauders who swarm on the Indian border. It was only after interminable debates and infinite precautions that the barrier guards at length consented to let the travellers pass. All the streets in Arispe were defended by strong barricades. The town resembled one large camp. The soldiers were bivouacked on all the squares, and sleeping round the bivouac fires, which were lighted as much to keep off the sharp night cold, as to cook their scanty rations.

Don Rufino possessed, on the Plaza Mayor of Arispe, a large and handsome mansion, at which he resided when business summoned him to Arispe. It took him more than an hour to reach it, owing to the numberless turnings he was compelled to take, and the barricades he was forced to scale. The door of the house was open, and a dozen soldiers were quietly bivouacked in the zaguán and patio; but Don Rufino did not at all protest against this arbitrary violation of his domicile; on the contrary, he boasted of his senatorial title, and seemed very pleased with the liberty the soldiers had taken. Don Rufino would not allow Don Ruiz and his peons to seek a shelter anywhere but in his own house; he forced them to accept his hospitality, and they did so without any excessive pressure, for both men and horses were beginning to feel the want of a few hours' rest, after an entire day's journey, made in the stifling heat of the sun.