THE IVORY CRUCIFIX
In crossing southern Arizona many years ago the late Captain W. O. O’Neill, “Buckey” O’Neill, as he was then called, saw something protruding from a mound of sand at the foot of a giant cactus. Turning aside to investigate he found the sun-dried bodies of a man and woman, the withered, skeleton hand of the woman still holding an ivory crucifix.Captain O’Neill buried the bodies and brought away the crucifix. Some time later he learned that it had belonged to the young wife of a Mexican cattle rancher. She had loved one of her husband’s vaqueros and they had gone away together. The husband and his men followed till turned back by the sand storm which had swallowed up the fugitives. It seemed that the woman, too weak to unclasp the crucifix from her neck, had stretched the slender rosary to its full length in her effort to lay the crucifix on her lover’s lips as he breathed his last.
In crossing southern Arizona many years ago the late Captain W. O. O’Neill, “Buckey” O’Neill, as he was then called, saw something protruding from a mound of sand at the foot of a giant cactus. Turning aside to investigate he found the sun-dried bodies of a man and woman, the withered, skeleton hand of the woman still holding an ivory crucifix.
Captain O’Neill buried the bodies and brought away the crucifix. Some time later he learned that it had belonged to the young wife of a Mexican cattle rancher. She had loved one of her husband’s vaqueros and they had gone away together. The husband and his men followed till turned back by the sand storm which had swallowed up the fugitives. It seemed that the woman, too weak to unclasp the crucifix from her neck, had stretched the slender rosary to its full length in her effort to lay the crucifix on her lover’s lips as he breathed his last.
“Ride, Juan, he follows, follows fast!”Nay, darling, down the windYou do but hear the trampling herdsThat flee our path behind:Look forward where the sunrise playsAcross the mountain’s rim;There shall you measure fairer daysWith me, and far from him.“Oh! Juan, the desert lies between,A waste of fear and dread;Smitten with bitter winds that shakeThe white bones of the dead:It lies between, as in our heartsOur sinful loving lies;Think you that earth will grant us peaceAn angry heaven denies?”“Haste! Haste! I hear the click of steel,The ring of muffled spur,And fearful shapes loom grim againstThe far mirage’s blur;Up-swimming on its trembling lightHuge, shadowy giants ride,Like blood-avengers through the haze—He, with his men beside!”Red swung the sun, a sullen diskAcross the copper sky,And whirling sand-wreaths pale as ghostsBeat upward spitefully;Beat up and broke, and whirled anew,And called their nameless kinTo race with them the race of deathNo soul of man may win.Forgot and far the fear behind;Before the God of WrathOut-stretched his hand upon the stormAnd barred their guilty path:“A cross!” How grim and gray and gauntThe tall zahauro loomed,As if in solemn vigil o’erSome martyr-saint entombed.“Pray! Pray!” she whispered as they fell;“The pitying saints may hear.Jesus! One mercy in the nameOf her that is most dear!Oh! Mary! Mother! if your graceBe given to such as we,I pray you of your tenderness,Spare him and punish me!”“The crucifix my mother gave!”With dying breath she stroveTo lay the carven, ivory ChristUpon the lips beloved.“Mine be the penance, gracious Lord!”The dark wall closed apace,As if earth strove to hide from HeavenThe anguished, pleading face.Still, still, along the drifted sand;How still the starlight crept!How still his vigil sad and loneThe gaunt zahuaro kept!There, where in wavering shadows thatLike life’s threads intermix,Her dead hand still to his dead lipsPressed close the crucifix.