"Hello, ****! Good news and bad!" he said, putting the letter in ****'s hand. "Had no trouble finding your friend Thorne. Looked like he'd been drunk for a week! Say, he nearly threw a fit. I never saw a fellow so wild with joy. He made sure you and Mercedes were lost in the desert. He wrote two letters which I brought.
Don't mistake me, boy, it was some fun with Mercedes just now.
I teased her, wouldn't give her the letter. You ought to have seen her eyes. If ever you see a black-and-white desert hawk swoop down upon a quail, then you'll know how Mercedes pounced upon her letter...Well, Casita is one hell of a place these days. I tried to get your baggage, and I think I made a mistake. We're going to see travel toward Forlorn River. The federal garrison got reinforcements from somewhere, and is holding out. There's been fighting for three days. The rebels have a string of flat railroad cars, all iron, and they ran this up within range of the barricades. They've got some machine guns, and they're going to lick the federals sure. There are dead soldiers in the ditches, Mexican non-combatants lying dead in the streets--and buzzards everywhere!
It's reported that Campo, the rebel leader, is on the way up from Sinaloa, and Huerta, a federal general, is coming to relieve the garrison.
I don't take much stock in reports. But there's hell in Casita, all right."
"Do you think we'll have trouble out here?" asked ****, excitedly.
"Sure. Some kind of trouble sooner or later," replied Belding, gloomily. "Why, you can stand on my ranch and step over into Mexico. Laddy says we'll lose horses and other stock in night raids.
Jim Lash doesn't look for any worse. But Jim isn't as well acquainted with Greasers as I am. Anyway, my boy, as soon as you can hold a bridle and a gun you'll be on the job, don't mistake me."
"With Laddy and Jim?" asked ****, trying to be cool.
"Sure. With them and me, and by yourself."
**** drew a deep breath, and even after Belding had departed he forgot for a moment about the letter in his hand. Then he unfolded the paper and read:
Dear ****,--You've more than saved my life. To the end of my days you'll be the one man to whom I owe everything. Words fail to express my feelings.
This must be a brief note. Belding is waiting, and I used up most of the time writing to Mercedes. I like Belding. He was not unknown to me, though I never met or saw him before. You'll be interested to learn that he's the unadulterated article, the real Western goods. I've heard of some of his stunts, and they made my hair curl. ****, your luck is staggering. The way Belding spoke of you was great. But you deserve it, old man.
I'm leaving Mercedes in your charge, subject, of course, to advice from Belding. Take care of her, ****, for my life is wrapped up in her. By all means keep her from being seen by Mexicans. We are sitting tight here--nothing doing. If some action doesn't come soon, it'll be darned strange. Things are centering this way.
There's scrapping right along, and people have begun to move.
We're still patrolling the line eastward of Casita. It'll be impossible to keep any tab on the line west of Casita, for it's too rough. That cactus desert is awful. Cowboys or rangers with desert-bred horses might keep raiders and smugglers from crossing.
But if cavalrymen could stand that waterless wilderness, which I doubt much, their horses would drop under them.
If things do quiet down before my commission expires, I'll get leave of absence, run out to Forlorn River, marry my beautiful Spanish princess, and take her to a civilized country, where, I opine, every son of a gun who sees her will lose his head, and drive me mad. It's my great luck, old pal, that you are a fellow who never seemed to care about pretty girls. So you won't give me the double cross and run off with Mercedes--carry her off, like the villain in the play, I mean.
That reminds me of Rojas. Oh, ****, it was glorious! You didn't do anything to the Dandy Rebel! Not at all! You merely caressed him--gently moved him to one side. ****, harken to these glad words: Rojas is in the hospital. I was interested to inquire.
He had a smashed finger, a dislocated collar bone, three broken ribs, and a fearful gash on his face. He'll be in the hospital for a month. ****, when I meet that pig-headed dad of yours I'm going to give him the surprise of his life.
Send me a line whenever any one comes in from F. R., and inclose Mercedes's letter in yours. Take care of her, ****, and may the future hold in store for you some of the sweetness I know now!
Faithfully yours, Thorne.
**** reread the letter, then folded it and placed it under his pillow.
"Never cared for pretty girls, huh?" he soliloquized.
"George, I never saw any till I struck Southern Arizona! Guess I'd better make up for lost time."
While he was eating his supper, with appetite rapidly returning to normal, Ladd and Jim cam in, bowing their tall heads to enter the door. Their friendly advances were singularly welcome to Gale, but he was still backward. He allowed himself to show that he was glad to see them, and he listened. Jim Lash had heard from Belding the result of the mauling given to Rojas by ****. And Jim talked about what a grand thing that was. Ladd had a good deal to say about Belding's horses. It took no keen judge of human nature to see that horses constituted Ladd's ruling passion.
"I've had wimmen go back on me, but never no hoss!" declared Ladd, and manifestly that was a controlling truth with him.
"Shore it's a cinch Beldin' is agoin' to lose some of them hosses," he said. "you can search me if I don't think there'll be more doin' on the border here than along the Rio Grande. We're just the same as on Greaser soil. Mebbe we don't stand no such chance of bein' shot up as we would across the line. but who's goin' to give up his hosses without a fight? Half the time when Beldin's stock is out of the alfalfa it's grazin' over the line. He thinks he's careful about them hosses, but he ain't."