CHAPTER XVIIALISON AWAKES
AN hour later the little Mexican settlement was left behind. Alison had seen Brigida, had given her warning and had received tearful thanks and repeated blessings. “You must get him away from there at once,” Alison had told her, “or he may be discovered.” And Brigida had assured her that there were friends and relatives who would go to the assistance of Carlos. So the girl came out of the stuffy adobe house where chickens roosted on the chairs, a game-cock, tied by the leg, occupied one corner, and where a huge bed took up most of the space. She wore so happy a face that Neal could but smile in return, and in spite of the rain and the piercingly cold wind they made a joyous journey the rest of the way.
“Neal,” whispered the girl, as he lifted her down before her own door, “you are my own true knight. I don’t know another who would have let me have my way without a word, who would have trusted me as you have done.” And at the look she gave him as she passed into the house he felt that her hour of waking was at hand.
Christine was ready with a roaring fire, hot coffeeand dry clothes for her sister. “Bad, naughty child,” she exclaimed, “why did you stay so long, and why did you go off no better protected? You might have perished with cold if you had been alone. Come in and get warm and then I will show you what Neal has brought me.”
“I am not so very cold,” declared Alison. “We had a good fire at the cabin and I was well wrapped up when we started, and then we came around the longer way so we did not face the wind.”
“The longest way round is the shortest way home,” sang Christine, who seemed in a merry mood. “Isn’t it good to see Neal again? John is so glad he is back. For all one can say, no one else is quite so companionable to John. He says that though Neal is always ready for a frolic and is no prig, he never forgets that he is a gentleman and he never disgraces himself by using bad language and by carousing in the dreadful way some of his comrades-in-arms did. Yet he always had their respect and confidence.”
“I know all that,” replied Alison, her eyes shining.
“Come up and I will show you my present,” said Christine, “such a rare piece as it is. I’ll wager mine is the best. Has Neal told what he has brought you?”
Alison was obliged to confess that he had not, but declared that she knew it was finer than her sister’s.
The two men were out putting up the horses whilethe girls were up-stairs. The girls could see them as they tramped back through the slashing rain. Alison watched their approach from the little window of her room. “When you were my age did you know you were in love with Steve?” she asked her sister suddenly.
“I always knew it,” said Christine quietly. “I can’t remember the time when I didn’t. Here, Allie, put on this dry skirt; you will take cold if you wear that wet one any longer.”
“What time did Neal get here?” asked Alison, mechanically taking the skirt.
“Quite early. He stayed to dinner and then nothing would do but he must go in search of you. Where did he overtake you?”
“Not very far this side of Louisa’s. Just as we reached that long stretch across the prairie the norther came up and we turned off into the woods.”
“It’s lucky you did. See, here is the beautiful thing he brought.” She spread out a piece of gorgeous embroidery for Alison to admire.
“It would make a magnificent apron,” she said.
“Too magnificent. Where would I wear such a thing? To spend the afternoon with Hannah Maria? No, I shall keep it for the front of a gown to wear to your wedding.” And Alison blushed.
“Let us go down now,” she said hastily. “The boys have come in.”
They found not only John and Neal before the blazing fire, but two travelers driven in by the storm to seek shelter, and the four were discussing Texas customs and the political situation.
“I was asked yesterday when I gave my name to a man,” said one of the travelers, “what my name was in the States. Rather a sharp comment upon the character of the immigration to Texas, I thought.”
“It is too bad that so good a country should receive so large an overflow of shady individuals from the States,” returned John. “We do have a great many refugees from the law, but there are some decent men among us, who do not feel it necessary to take a different name in order to hide an unenviable identity. As I think of it, very few, if any, of our immediate neighbors rest under the shadow of any crime, though there have been a few desperadoes in our midst. Pike Smith, you know him, Neal,” he turned to his friend, “he is said to have worn another name before he came to Texas. Old Cy Sparks was pretty crooked, but he was born Cy Sparks and was buried under the same name. I think most of us, sir, in this vicinity can produce our family Bibles.”
“I am glad to receive so good a report,” said the traveler addressed. “When a respectable man is attracted to a locality and is thinking of settling there he would rather that his neighbors were not all escaped criminals.”
“We cannot boast of many intellectual spirits about here,” said John, “but further west we have some German emigrants of the better class, who are building up a most promising settlement and who have some scholarly men among them. They had a very hard experience at first, and had more difficulties to overcome than is usually the lot of pioneers, but now their village of New Braunfels is quite a model. Then there is Castro’s settlement, and others which have brought a good class of people, so, sir, you see we are not all cut-throats and horse thieves.”
“I should have denied any such report, sir, after my own experiences,” returned the gentleman politely, “for I have met with no finer hospitality than has been shown me here and, though I have encountered some roughness, I have been offered nothing but kindly intentions. What do you think, sir, of the situation in Mexico? Will it be Anaya or Almonte who will be the next president? The rapidity with which they change their presidents is only equaled by that with which our own army wins its victories over them.”
“We certainly have been giving it to them good and hot,” said Neal. “I never saw harder fighting than at Mexico.”
“You were with the army, sir?” spoke up the second traveler. “I should like to hear some of your experiences.”
“I have but just returned,” Neal told him.
“Mr. Jordan was with McCullough and afterwards with Jack Hays,” John remarked. “I think, gentlemen, he can entertain you with some very good adventures.”
And so the talk went on. Alison, sitting by her brother’s side, listened eagerly to Neal’s tales of scouting parties, of raids, of hair-breadth escapes, and in her interest in the Texas Ranger forgot that there ever existed in her imagination such a person as Sir Artegall, so did the present drive out the past. Outside the norther still raged. It shook the windows and sent gusts of wind through every crack and cranny, but inside, before the cheerful fire, the company did not mind the gale, and the strangers, glad enough of such comfort and of such excellent companionship, were rather pleased that they were compelled to defer their journey till better weather.
It was the third day before the storm passed over and then it grew suddenly mild and summerlike. The guests remained until the sun came out and then with many courteous speeches went upon their way. During the time of their stay Alison had not had much opportunity of seeing Neal alone, nor had any news of the outside world reached her. She wondered if Carlos had escaped. The weather surely was in his favor, and she believed there was now no longer any danger in his direction. She determined, however, totell Neal nothing till he should be ready to depart upon his quest.
Upon the afternoon of the day that the norther ended, Bud Haley made his appearance. As might be supposed, he was not going to omit taking advantage of the first opportunity of seeing Neal. His good-natured face smiled upon the family assembled in the gallery. “Been a-wonderin’ how you-alls was a-gittin’ along,” he said. “I wanted to start out two or three times, but Hannah Mari’ wouldn’t hear to my doin’ nothing but hug the fire. Well, Neal, back safe, ain’t ye? Had right smart luck, I think, not losin’ no limb. Hallo, Allie, we didn’t git our man arter all. It come on so blamed cold, an’ we give it up after we beat around for an hour or more. It looked like we’d ought to got him.”
“What man?” asked John quickly.
“One o’ Pike’s gang. Thought we spotted him sure. He was footin’ it along the road ahead of us. Soon as Iry seen him he give a yell and let out his rope, but the feller jumped a leetle beyond the limit and got into the bushes. We struck right in after him, but somehow he got off.”
“Which man was it?” asked John.
“That greaser, Carlos. It did look for one while like he’d made straight for Pike’s cabin, but we was out on our calculations. The tracks we saw turned out to be Neal’s. The greaser must have got pickedup by the wind, it looks to me like, for there was two or three sets of tracks by the door, and what we thought his’n we followed straight from the road.”
Alison was bending forward eagerly listening. She breathed a sigh of relief. Carlos had escaped.
“You are sure he wasn’t there,” said John.
“There wasn’t nobody there but Allie when we come by. I reckon she’d hollered if she’d seen him. He got off somehow, but we’ll have him yet. How’s things, Neal?”
“Things” being matters in general which would interest the three men they betook themselves to the outside, where the sun was shining warm and where they squatted down comfortably for a good talk till Bud was ready to take his leave, having loaded himself with all the news he could obtain from the family collectively and individually.
Alison stood on the step watching him depart. John was keeping pace with the horse till he should be ready to pass through the gate. Christine was moving about the inner room. Neal leaned against the side of the house. “Little lady,” he said presently, “got anything to tell me? I reckon I’ll be starting off in the morning.”
“So soon?” the words came with unrestrained tones of regret.
“Yes, don’t you think I’d better be hitchin’ along?The sooner I get started the sooner I’ll get back, and the more likely I’ll be to find Steve.”
“That is true, I suppose. Do you know you haven’t given me my present yet?” she added reproachfully.
“I’ll show it to you.”
Alison stepped down to his side. He took her hand and laid it in his firm brown palm. Then he looked down into her eyes and smiled. She did not withdraw her hand, but glanced away, afraid to meet his gaze. “It’s a young little hand,” he said, “all pink and white and dimply. It oughtn’t to work too hard.”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” said Alison, laughing. “I do no more than I should, though now there is more to look after; the negroes to see to and my own sewing to do. I don’t want my hands to be idle ones, for Satan finds some mischief still; you know the rest.”
Neal did not answer, but lifted the hand and touched his lips to the rosy palm. Then still holding it in his firm clasp he said, “Come, let’s take a walk. Where’s that little place you used to call your castle in the chaparral? Is it all overgrown?”
“No, for I have had Pedro keep it cleared. Lolita and I are very fond of going there. I think the sun will have dried it up enough for us to go if you want to see it. Wilt come to my castle, Sir Knight? I have matters of grave import to discuss with you.”
Neal chuckled, but became grave before they reached the place. “This is the moat,” said Alison, when they reached the tree, “and this limb is the drawbridge. Now I’m over.” She dropped down lightly and they stood side by side in the circle. “Now,” said Alison, “look up into the tree, or the sky somewhere, till I tell you something.”
“Why not look at you?”
“Because.”
“After such an excellent reason I will look anywhere but at you. All right. Fire ahead, Alison.”
And Alison told him of her meeting with Carlos, of the information he had given her, of her promise to his mother, concluding with: “And that was why I had to see Brigida that day.”
“I see.” Neal was silent for a moment.
“Do you think I did wrong?” asked Alison, anxiously.
“No, not from your standpoint. I reckon anyhow you did right. The fellow is ignorant, and from what I have gathered, was only a tool in Pike Smith’s hands. He’ll have to leave the country, though, if he wants to save his neck.”
“I warned Brigida of that. Do you know where that Night Creek is?”
“Just about.”
“Is it far?”
“Right smart of a ways. You’ve got me some lines to go on.”
“You haven’t told anybody about your going, have you?”
“No. I told John I was going off on some business, but I did not say where. I am glad you can start me on the right track.” He did not say that even this was vague enough information, and that the journey presented more dangers than she knew.
“Now where is my present?” said the girl, holding out her hand.
Neal fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a small packet which he gave her. Alison opened it eagerly. “Oh, how beautiful,” she exclaimed as she disclosed a hoop of yellow gold set with a single fine emerald. “I never had a ring before,” she said slipping it on her finger and viewing it admiringly. Then she took it off and looked up at him. “I don’t believe I will wear it—just yet,” she said hesitatingly.
“But when I come back?”
“Yes, I think so. Thank you very, very much, Neal. It is a very beautiful present, much too good for me.”
“I thought you were a princess or a lady somebody or other.”
“Yes, so I like to imagine, but I’d rather not wear the ring if you don’t mind.”
“Wear it when you please, little lady.”
“I ought to give you my colors to wear. Here, let me have your hat.” She took the broad-brimmed sombrero and twisted in with its gilt cord a blue ribbon she wore. “There,” she said, “you are fairly decked. You haven’t a shield, and I haven’t a sleeve embroidered with pearls, but those are my colors. I wish I could give you something better to remember me by when you have brought me such a beautiful thing as this.” She gazed down at the ring which she held in her hand.
“Do you think I am likely to forget you?”
“Oh, no. I am too conceited for that.”
“There is one thing I should like. You know, it is possible—anything is possible—I might not come back.”
“Don’t, don’t say that!” Alison looked at him in alarm. “Is it going to be very, very dangerous?”
“Not more so than any other undertaking. Not as much so as going to war or as heaps of Injun fights.”
“Oh, then, I don’t feel so badly as if it were something worse. And what is it I can give you?”
He took both her hands, the ring clasped between them. “You can give me one kiss to remember,” he said very gravely, very tenderly.
She dropped her eyes to the strong muscular hands enfolding hers. Over her came a partial realization of what he was about to do for her sake, of what he might have to endure before she should see him again.She lifted her face as a child might and he kissed her gently. Then he released her hands and stood looking at her. The red blood rushed to her cheeks. She seemed so young, so innocent, that he felt a reverence for her as truly as did any knight for his lady.
At this moment Christine’s voice was heard calling:
“Alison, Alison, where are you?”
“Oh, I must go,” murmured the girl. And still clasping her ring she caught the limb of the tree, found her foothold and reached the road, leaving Neal to follow.
She held out the ring in her palm when she came up to her sister standing on the step. “See, see, my present,” she said exultantly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Christine took the ring and examined it carefully. Then she looked at the girl searchingly, but Alison’s eager face showed no consciousness.
“It is beautiful,” said Christine. “Are you going to wear it?”
A soft color swept over Alison’s face. “No, not yet,” she said. And, passing her sister, she went into the house. Christine looked after her and sighed gently.
The next morning Neal took his departure, his last smile and hand clasp for Alison. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said.
“And you will write?” she asked.
“If I can. If I have anything to tell.” And he rode away.
“My knight goes forth,” whispered Alison to herself. She watched him between the waving sweep of prairie till he was lost to view. Then she turned to her sister and said wistfully, “Oh, Christine, I shall miss him so, I shall miss him so.”
“Why, my dear, my dear,” Christine looked with tender concern at the eyes full of tears, “does it matter so much to you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” replied Alison rushing up to her room.
All day long she thought of him who had ridden towards the west. In the evening she got out her copy of the “Faerie Queen” and pored over it till her mind was full of the terrors of the forest, of hidden foes, of wounded knights, of desperate combats, and she dreamed of them and, waking in the middle of the night, started up imagining she saw Neal in the hands of fierce Indians. “The Apaches! The Apaches!” she cried out, and sank down on her pillow sobbing convulsively.
Her cry awoke her sister who turned to soothe her, patting her as she would a child. “Why, Alison, dear child, you must have had a horrid dream,” she said. “Go to sleep. There are no Indians.”
But Alison did not go to sleep. In the fastnesses of the mountains she knew there were Indians. Shehad sent her knight into their midst. What folly! what folly! Why had she not considered the danger? She clasped the ribbon by which she had swung her ring around her neck and feeling for the circlet she softly kissed it. “Oh, Neal, Neal,” she whispered, “if I could call you back, I would. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” She lay very still listening to Christine’s quiet breathing, and it came over her that now for the first time, she comprehended the meaning and the misery of hope deferred. “I was thinking of you, and not of him, Christine,” she murmured, “and you have not given up hope in all this long while, then why should I so soon? They will come back together.” And seeking her sister’s hand she held it till she slept.
But the next morning she took the ring from its ribbon and wore it proudly on her hand. Christine looked at it questioningly.
“When Neal comes back I want him to see it there,” said Alison, but she would discuss the subject no further.
“I believe Alison is very fond of Neal,” Christine said to her brother later in the day.
“I’m glad of it,” returned John. “She’s all the world to him. He told me so two years ago, but I reminded him that she was but a child; that she had not waked up yet.”
“She has waked up now,” said Christine.