XXITHE RIO MORENO BRIDGE
Theywere out of the town, riding west through open country—ten men, including himself, Elbert counted, one led-horse trailing. Bart had fixed the pace of the sorrel at a full run, but still Mamie had to be held in, not to forge ahead. Finally the words from Bart:
‘I don’t hear much American—but that didn’t sound so cheerful—“belonged,” you said?’
Elbert had to stop to recall his last words. He had said the mare he rode ‘belonged’ to Bart’s father.
‘Yes, that’s what I meant,’ he called back. ‘I came down from him—at the last—’
For a full minute, only the drum of hoofs; then from Bart, as steadily as before:
‘Some night for news—Monte Vallejo and this about Dad—same night.’
‘But I’ve got a lot to say to you from him!’ Elbert answered above the roar. ‘In case anything happens to separate us—I want you to know he has left you some money—quite a lot of money.’
‘Struck gold at the last?’
‘Yes, the mine’s rich, too—a gold tooth, hecalls it,’ Elbert went on, absurdly. ‘Only filed the top off her so far. If I don’t get a chance to tell you all about it—you go to Mort Cotton, the cattleman at San Forenso—’
‘Say, amigo mio, aren’t you expecting to live?’
‘Yes, but I’ve been carrying this message all summer. Been down here looking for you—long time. Remember—Mort Cotton at San Forenso—he’ll fix you up, and I want to tell you, your father never forgot—but kept thinkin’ about you—ever since Red Ante—’
His relief was inexpressible for a minute. He had made good, if there was not another word spoken. ‘One of the finest men I ever knew!’ he added.
No answer from Bart.
Now gradually Elbert began to realize he was running with what was left of Monte Vallejo’s band. There hadn’t been any time to think or choose back in el cuartel. He had jumped at the chance to ride out with Bart; that meant he had cast his lot with the bandits; identified once and for all with a fragment of the outlaws, now hunted from all quarters of Sonora. Still, a kind of freedom throbbed in him, his nostrils dilated to the smell of dust in the night—a man beside, a horse beneath. Finally above the thud of hoofs, Bart’s voice again:
‘What did they lock you up for?’
‘My mare, Mamie here, I guess. They thought she was one of the race-horses—’
‘Thought you were one of us,’ Bart chuckled. ‘How long have you been locked up?’
‘Last night—or night before last—if it’s getting on toward morning.’
‘Two hours to daybreak yet.’
In the silence after that, Elbert became queerly aware that Bart wanted to ask more about his father, but couldn’t get his voice to working. The words reached him:
‘So they kicked off Monte yesterday morning?’
‘Day before yesterday—’
‘You weren’t there then?’
‘No, but they told me he had the nerve—that Bistula of the rurales, himself, finished the job. The soldiers wouldn’t shoot straight!’
‘I sure wanted to get to Monte in time,’ Bart said, queerly. ‘The game’s up, with him gone—’
Did he mean he regarded their own capture as inevitable? After another pause, Bart asked: ‘And what do you get, Mister, for coming down here and mixing up in this?’
‘Your father arranged all that. We were friends, you know—’
‘Don’t you know you’re in bad, ridin’ with this outfit?’
‘I took the job—’
‘Better if I’d left you locked up in that cell.You’re along with what’s left of a losing game—’ Bart’s laugh sounded forlorn as he added: ‘Why, they’re after us from every town—’
Elbert cleared his throat ‘You see, I took the job—’
His eye had fastened on the north star as he spoke. It was over his right shoulder, so they were riding west. He could see the mountains lying northward there in the moonlight. A sudden passion mounted in him to turn north right now; to ride straight north, crossing the Border with Bart, yonder in the mountains where there were no roads; to find himself in the States with Bart, asking the way to San Forenso; after that, the trail west to the cabin, his mind finishing the picture in a flash—with Mamie and the sorrel safe in the corral. The deep laughing voice at his left:
‘I guess when you take a job, you try to see it through, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Elbert in fainter tone. He was deeply drawn to the man he had come for. Sometimes it was as if Cal Monroid were riding at his side; sometimes a feeling of Mr. Leadley’s presence.
‘I’d like to get you out of this, Mister, but it’s a sort of tight web—’
Silence and hard riding after that; finally Bart called a halt for a few seconds to listen or get his bearings. There was a scratching of matches inthe outfit as he pressed on again—the interminable little boxes and sheaves of tobacco.
‘Don’t hear ’em behind. The town of Alphonso is about five miles ahead, I figure. Another squad of rurales stationed there—’
‘Telegraph in between?’ Elbert asked.
‘I’m not sure; not along this road, anyway. May be a roundabout wire. I’m taking the chance to reach the bridge of Rio Moreno. Two miles yet.’
They galloped on. The moon was tilting over toward the west. It must have been after three. He saw the lather on Mamie’s neck, yet he was still holding her in. A wooden bridge loomed ahead. Bart pulled up, and turned off the main road to a parallel sandy track at the right, leading down to the water. He didn’t mean to cross the bridge, Elbert perceived. The arroyo was broad and filled with stones, but the horses smelled water ahead. Mamie was whipping her head up and down, trying to take the bit. Now Elbert saw the mare’s ears cock suddenly, and knew she had caught something in the wind. His hand shot down to shut off her breath, but the nicker broke out in spite of him.
An answer in kind from under the bridge. Then a volley from the same source, Elbert’s second experience under rifle fire that night—venomous roaring of slugs in the air. He nevercould have dreamed how utterly malignant the sounds. That instant at his right hand (Bart was still at his left) it was as if the picture unfolded for his eyes alone—an upturned face, then a crumpled, falling body, horse leaping aside—empty saddle—one of the four released from the prison at Arecibo. In the midst of the shots, a yell from Bart:
‘We split right here, men!’
Elbert heard certain names shouted—those who were to turn back, those to ride north. Then Bart’s face jerked around to him. ‘This way for us, Mister, we ride together.’
Their horses were at full run, along the river-bed, where the clear sand showed at the edge of the stream—shots still peppering after.
‘Your mare!’ Bart laughed. ‘Why, they’d have gotten all of us, if she hadn’t given warning! We’d have gone right into their gun-barrels under the bridge!’
‘She’s one more listening mare,’ Elbert called back.