TOLD AT TRINIDADA. A. HAYES, JR.1879From “New Colorado and the Santa Fé Trail.” By A. A. Hayes, Jr. Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Harper and Brothers, New York.[27]
A. A. HAYES, JR.
1879
From “New Colorado and the Santa Fé Trail.” By A. A. Hayes, Jr. Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Harper and Brothers, New York.[27]
Wehad driven over from El Moro only to find that the daily train for the South had started, and that we had a long night and day on our hands. We soon exhausted the sights of the town, and sat down on the hotel piazza in company with rather a motley group. We talked in a languid way about various subjects, and drifted after awhile to the old staging days; then a quiet New Yorker took his cigar out of his mouth, and said,
“Gentlemen, I should like to tell you a story. Those of you who saw theNew York Heraldof July —, 1876, may have noticed a rather unintelligible account of a crime committed by the scion of a wealthy and distinguished family long resident in the city. It was supposed to be a heavy forgery, but one soon saw that extraordinary measures and powerful influence had suppressed details and prevented further publicity, and the matter passed off as a nine days’ wonder. When I myself first saw the item, I felt sure that I knew who the culprit was. JamesW——and I were school-mates at Geneva, and once great friends. He was the son of one of the finest gentlemen of the old school that I have ever seen—who had married rather late in life, and been a most affectionate and indulgent father. Jameswas a boy of most attractive appearance, with very dark complexion, hair and eyes, and the figure of an athlete. There was apparently nothing in feature, expression, or manner, to cause suspicion that he was not a very fine fellow; and yet there came to me before long the positive conviction, first, that under that attractive exterior a desperate power of evil was at work; second (and I am no more able to explain this than those other spiritual mysteries which so many of us encounter in our lives), that it would be my fate to come into contact with him in after years when this power had developed itself.
“Through certain channels then open to me I easily ascertained that, after a career of deep dissipation, JamesW——had committed a bold forgery; that in some way the money had been paid, and the affair quashed. Other things came to my ears, all strongly confirmatory of my expectations about him. About eighteen months later his mother died, and his father settled all his business and went to Europe; nearly everyone supposing, in the meantime, that the son had suddenly started, when he was first missed from his accustomed haunts, on a journey to Central Asia, and that it would be months before he could hear this sad news.
“Later again, as the Union Pacific train, on which I was a passenger, stopped at the Green River station, I saw on the platform, evidently waiting to join us, a father and daughter. The former was a fine specimen of the better class of plainsmen—six feet two, and of powerful build—his eyes large and blue, his long hair and full beard light-colored, and his expression kindness itself. The young girl was about eighteen, slender and delicate, and altogether charming—one of those beautiful, tender, clinging young creatures sometimes found on the frontier, like the delicate wild flowers in the cañons. They were going to Chicago; and having been commended to MajorG——by some mutual acquaintances, I passed much time in his company, and we became excellent friends. He had been a widowerfor a number of years, and was deeply devoted to his pretty Anita, who in her turn seemed to adore him. I could not help thinking that she was ill-fitted to meet the cares of life, and that there was a look in her lovely eyes that suggested a rare capacity for suffering. She had never been east of the Missouri before, and the major told me that after a short stay in Chicago, they were going to live on a ranch which he had bought in the Wet Mountain Valley. He had been a noted hunter and Indian fighter in the West, and bore the scars of more than one struggle with wild beast and wilder man. I remained with them one day in Chicago, and remember Anita’s childish delight in a bouquet of flowers which I gave her, when I called at the hotel to say good-bye, and her waving her handkerchief to me as I drove off to the station, and she stood on the balcony leaning on her father’s shoulder.
“Chance brought me, within six or eight months, to the region south of the Arkansas, and I took a trip on the Wet Mountains with an old Mexican called Manuel. One day it occurred to me that we could not be far from my friend’s location; so I asked Manuel if we could not cross the range and go down into the valley, and if he knew where MajorG——lived.
“‘Oh si, señor!’ he quickly replied, ‘we easy come over the mountain and to the Rancho San José, where live the major. Oh, it is a place so beautiful! the valley which the señor will see when we pass the Sierra and go down the cañon.’ ‘And the major, and his daughter, are they well?’ I asked. ‘The major, yes,’ said Manuel; ‘but the señorita’—and his voice changed—‘she is not well. The señor does not then know—but ah! how could he?—that she have so great trouble.’
“Much surprised and shocked, I gradually elicited from him a narration of what had occurred after the father and daughter took up their abode in the valley. It seemed that a young man, bound ostensibly on a hunting trip, once askedfor a night’s lodging at the ranch, and was evidently struck by the beauty of Anita; that he had returned again and again, and finally expressed his intention of taking up a homestead in the vicinity. Anita seemed attracted by him from the first. They were finally betrothed, and the major had the comfort of knowing that they would remain near him. He had apparently given his full confidence to the young man, and talked freely to him of his affairs; and notably, on one occasion, of his intention to keep quite a large sum of money in the house for two days, contrary to his usual custom, but for the purpose of paying for a mine which he had bought. The next morning the money was gone! The young man was never seen again.
“I heard this tale with great regret, and said to myself that the poor girl would never bear such a blow. When I asked Manuel about her condition, he broke into distressed and almost incoherent utterances aboutla pobrecita(the poor little one), for whom might theMadre de Diosintercede. I began to dread the visit to the ranch, and would have turned back but for a desire to offer my sympathies.
“When we entered the corral the sun was just sinking behind the Sangre de Cristo Range, and flooding the valley with light. The major came out when he heard our horses, and, recognizing me, at once bade us welcome. When I saw his poor daughter I was shocked beyond measure. She lay on a sofa looking at the western mountains. She knew me and gave me her poor little hand, so thin that it seemed almost transparent. Her face was pallid, and deep purple rings were under her eyes. I said a few commonplace words of sympathy, and then turned away. The major followed me into the house, and, coming up and taking my offered hand, said, ‘They call it quick consumption. I know better than that—it is a broken heart!’ His grasp tightened painfully on my hand. ‘My God!’ he cried, ‘how can I bear it!’ The scene was painful in the extreme. I found Manuel and told him that we must go on, and that he hadbest lead the horses outside of the corral, where I would join him. The major’s life-long instincts of hospitality flashed out in a momentary protest at my departure, but he did not press me to stay. I knew that he had kind neighbors, and the ranch seemed no place for us. I went to say farewell to the dying girl, but finding her lying with closed eyes and folded hands, I dared not disturb her, although I knew that I saw her for the last time. MajorG——walked mechanically to the gate, and bade us good-bye. I saw the tears in old Manuel’s eyes as we mounted and rode some distance in silence. Two weeks after this, coming from Fort Garland, I bought a Denver paper from the newsboy on the train, and saw that I had rightly judged of the poor child’s inability to bear a rude shock, for I read that she had ‘entered into rest.’
“Now, gentlemen, I am afraid that you will think I am spinning a sensational yarn, but it is only a few months since, just as we are sitting here, I was sitting with a party of gentlemen at the door of the fonda at the corner of the plaza in Santa Fé. We were admiring the gorgeous sunset, and listening to the band playing under the trees, when the ‘buckboard’ of the Transportation Company arrived from the South. It was with a start that I rose to salute, in the only passenger, my poor friend MajorG——. He had changed sadly; his hair had grown white, and his cheeks were sunken. Then he had a habit of pressing his hand to his forehead, which gave one a vivid impression of despair.
“He greeted me warmly, as of old, and mentioned that he had come from Mesilla, and was going on to Fort Garland in the morning, but he said little more at first, and I dreaded any recurrence to the past. In the evening I induced him to take a cigar, and to drink a little from my flask. Soon he seemed restored to a temporary animation, and after asking me if I proposed accompanying him on his journey, and expressing gratification at my willingness so to do, he went on as follows:
“‘I have heard something which leads me to think that the road agents are going to try to rob the stage, which will have some treasure freight. The only passengers besides us will be a couple of greasers, who can’t help us if they would. You know the boys say that the agents always have things their own way. Now, as I feel at present, I’m not inclined to give up without a try. I don’t want to ring you in unless you are for it; but, with all the trouble I’ve had, a bullet more or less is of no account to me; but I have a notion,’ he continued, ‘that I can block their game. It was done once by an old pard of mine, and, if you say so, I’ll try it, and you just follow my lead. Will you take the chances?’ I knew him to be a man of desperate courage and fertile in resource, and I assented. ‘What kind of shooting-iron have you?’ he asked. ‘Navy Colt? No, that’s good in its way; but I’ll lend you a self-cocker like mine. Mind and take at least a strong cup of coffee before we start; and now you’d better turn in.’
“In the morning we took our places in the coach, the major sitting on the front seat, and left-hand side; I sat opposite, and each had a silent Mexican next him. We drove without incident to the place where the horses were first changed; but, before we started again, my friend said to me,
“‘I allow that we’ll have our trouble, if at all, in the cañon four miles ahead. Now just put your blanket over your lap and hold your pistol under it. Keep a bright look-out, and if we strike ’em, just have your wits about you, and be ready to fire after I do.’ Soon we rolled off again, and I saw him lean back for awhile and then sit upright, and keep his eye fixed on the road. The horses were good; we soon approached the cañon, and the suspense became almost unbearable. I could not help thinking about our chances in the case of attack. Just then—I remember that I was looking at a group of cedars—the stage stopped, and, as if conjured up by the hand of a magician, three men onhorseback appeared on our side, two close to us, one behind. I seemed to comprehend the whole situation in the twinkling of an eye; the figures—the levelled barrels—the major sitting before me.
“‘Throw up your hands, —— —— you!’ They were reckless enough to wear no masks—the speaker lowered his head to look in. Heavens! shall I ever forget that scene? On my part there was a startling recognition—on the major’s there must have been the same, for never have I seen a human face so transformed, and it added an almost demoniacal force to the action, which all passed in a flash. The terror of the sudden start, the throwing out of the left arm, the frightened glare of the eyes, may have been the product of rare dramatic power; but there was something far more terribly real in his wild cry,
“‘Great God! who is that behind you?’ The robbers instinctively turned their heads. Crack!—crack! The major’s right arm, rigid as iron, held the smoking weapon, as two riderless horses galloped off, and I mechanically fired at the third man. Then my friend laid his revolver down, and put his hand to his forehead. We drove on a short distance, and then made one of the frightened Mexicans hold the horses, and the driver and I hurried back. It was with a sharp shudder, and a vivid realization that the forebodings of earlier days had come only too true, that I saw my old school-mate lying dead in the dusty road. And then I saw one of those strange phenomena of the occurrence of which there is ample scientific evidence. Gentlemen, I assure you that therehadbeen mutual recognition, and the terror of it was in those dead eyes.
“We drove back to Santa Fé almost at a gallop, the major sitting like a statue in his seat, and never speaking. As we entered the plaza and stopped before the old palace a crowd gathered, and I whispered to an army officer to take my poor friend to headquarters, while I attended to the needful formalities. I can see the scene before my eyes this moment:the motley gathering of Americans and Mexicans, with some uniforms among them; the driver eagerly talking—the hostlers taking the horses’ heads. The United States Marshal and Commissioner came out of their offices, and I told them the story. The marshal stopped me for a moment after the first ten words, and sent for his two deputies and three horses. Then he lighted a cigar and offered me one as I went on with my brief narrative. The deputies came up, the marshal went to his office for his arms, and examined the percussion-caps as he asked me a few questions. Then they all three shook hands with me and galloped down the narrow street. They were fierce pursuers, and when I saw the chief deputy that evening, he told me that the third man was in the jail.
“‘I know ’em all well,’ he added, ‘and two more ungodly ruffians than the dead men never cheated the gallows. I’ve been after that black-haired one a long time for a matter in Wyoming’; and a wolfish look came for a moment over his pleasant face. ‘I knew where to find the third man. He’s a mean cur, and gave in without the show of a fight. To be sure, you plugged him pretty bad in the arm.’
“When the marshal had gone to his office the commissioner and I walked to headquarters and found the major (whom the surgeon had induced to drink a composing draught) sitting in a chair, leaning his head upon his hand. He rose as we approached. ‘Sam,’ said he to the commissioner, ‘the Lord delivered him into my hands! It was his will.’
“He started again the next morning, and as the stage turned the corner he waved his hand to me, and then put it to his head once again in that sad, weary way of his. Urged by the spirit of unrest which had seized upon him, he joined the prospectors at Leadville, exposed himself recklessly, and died of pneumonia in three weeks.
“Strangely enough, the news recently came that old Mr.W——was never seen after taking a steamer at Vienna togo down the Danube. That is the reason that I have felt at liberty to tell the story. They say the way of the transgressor is hard; but in this case it seems to me that there is a good deal to be said about the ways of those against whom he transgressed. Perhaps many of you have come across curious things in your lives, but nothing much stranger than what you have just heard.”
And to this statement no one took exception.