Bred of the Desert - Charles Marcus Horton (best short novels .TXT) š
- Author: Charles Marcus Horton
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āYou know, Franke,ā he began, with a backward glance at the horse ambling along peacefully in the dust, āthot caballo heās strong lak a ox. Heās makinā a fine horseāa fine horseāin thees wagon! Heāsāā He suddenly interrupted himself. āFranke,ā he offered, generously, āfor thees help Iām takinā off five dolars on thot debt now. You know? You haf never pay me thot betāthee big betāthee one on thee wagon and thee horses. And you haf steal seex dolars, too! But Iām forgettinā thot, now, too. All right?ā
The other nodded grateful acceptance. Then, as if to show gratitude further, he very solicitously inquired into the matter, especially with reference to Felipeās discovery of the horse after all these years. They were clattering across the mesa now, having come to it by way of a long detour round the town, and before replying Felipe gave his team loose rein.
āWell,ā he began, as the horses fell back into a plodding walk, āI haf know about thot couple weeks before. I haf see thees caballo in town one morninā, and a girl she is ridinā heem, and everybody is lookinā, and so Iām lookinā.ā He paused to roll a cigarette. āAnd then,ā he continued, drawing a deep inhale of smoke, āI haf know quick lak thotāāhe snapped his fingers sharplyāāquick lak thotāāhe snapped his fingers againāāthereās my potrillo grown big lak a house! And soāā
āBut how you knowinā thotās thee horse?ā interrupted the other. āHow you knowinā thot for sure?ā Evidently Franke was beginning to entertain grave doubts concerning this visit to the corral.
But Felipe only sneered. āHow I know thot?ā he asked, disdainfully. āIām joost tellinā you! I know! Thotās enough! A horse is a horse! And I know thees horse! I know every horse! I got only to see a horse onceāonce onlyāand Iām never forgettinā thot horse! And Iām makinā no meestake nowābet youā life!ā Nevertheless, flicked with doubt because of the gravity of the other, he turned his head and gazed back at the horse long and earnestly. Finally he turned around again. āI know thot horse!ā he yelled. āAnd Iām tellinā you thees, Franke,ā he went on, suddenly belligerent toward the other. āIf you donā tāink Iām gettinā thee right caballo, I have you arrested for stealinā thot seex dolars thot time! Money is money, too. But a horse is a horse. I know thees horse. Thotās enough!ā Yet he relapsed into a moody silence, puffing thoughtfully on his cigarette.
Behind the outfit, Pat continued along docilely. In a way he was enjoying this strange journey across the mesa. It was all very new to him, this manner of crossing, this being tied to the rear of a wagon, and he found himself pleasantly mystified. Nor was that all. Not once had he felt called upon to rebel. In perfect contentment he followed the rigging, eyes upon the outhanging reach, for he was intent upon maintaining safe distance between this thing and himself. Once, when they were mounting up to the mesa, he had met with a sharp blow from this projectionādue to sudden change of gait in the horsesāand he only required the one lesson to be ever after careful. As for the men forward, he knew nothing of them, and never, to his knowledge, had seen them before. But in no way was he concerning himself about them. Nor, indeed, was he worrying over any part of this proceeding. For in his dumb animal way he was coming to know, as all dumb servants of man come to know, that life, after all, is service, a kind of self-effacing series of tasks in the interests of others, and that this ambling along behind the vehicle was but one of the many kinds.
āAnd,ā suddenly broke out Felipe, who, having threshed the matter out to his satisfaction, now felt sure of his position once more, āI haf follow thees girl and thee horse. I haf see thee place where sheās goināāyou know.ā And he winked foxily. āAnd then I haf coom to thees place, two, three times after thee horse. But always thee man is there. But thees morninā Iām seeinā thot hombre in town, and so I haf go gettinā you to coom help me. But you haf steal seex dolars. Iām forgettinā thotānot! And if you say soomtāing to soombody soomtime, Iām havinā you arrested, Franke, for a tāief and a robberāsame as I ought to arrest thot Pedro Garcia oop in the canyon.ā
Franke maintained discreet silence. But not for long. Evidently he suddenly thought of a point in his own favor.
āYouā havinā good luck thees time, Felipe,ā he declared, tranquilly, āespecially,ā he hastened to add, āwhen Iām tāinkinā of thee halter. Without thee halter, you know, you donā gettinā thees caballo.ā
Felipe ignored this. āI haf need a horse,ā he went on, thoughtfully. āThee motāer of thees black felārāyou know, thotās thee motāerāsheās gettinā old all time. Sheās soon dyinā, thot caballo. Thees black horse heās makinā a fine one in thees wagon.ā Franke said nothing. Nor did Felipe speak again. And thus, in silence, they continued across the mesa and on up the canyon to the little adobe in the settlement. Arrived before the house, Franke quickly disappeared in the direction of his home, leaving Felipe to unhitch and unharness alone. But Felipe cared nothing for this. He was supremely happyāhappy in the return of the long-lost colt, doubly happy in the possession of so fine a horse without outlay of money. Whistling blithely, he unhitched the team, led them back into the corral, returned to the wagon again. Here, still whistling, he untied the black and escorted him also into the inclosure. Then, after scratching his head a long moment in thought, he set out in the direction of the general store and a bottle of vino.
As the man disappeared, Pat, standing uncertainly in the middle of the corral, followed him with a look in his eyes that hinted of vague memories that would not down. And well he might be flicked with vague memories. For he was at last returned to the brief cradle of his babyhood.
Late that same afternoon, Helen, attired in riding-habit, left the house for her first afternoon canter. As she slowly crossed the patio, she noted the absence of Pat from his usual corner, but, assuming that he was inside the stable, called to him from the gate. But she received no answering whinny. Slightly worried, she entered the corral and stepped to the stable door, and again sounded his name. Again she received no answering whinny. She entered the stable, walked past the stalls, peered in at each with increasing alarm. Only the saddle-horse and the family horse met her troubled eyes. She stood for a moment dismayed, then once more she sounded the horseās name. But, as before, she received no answering whinny.
Puzzled, perplexed, troubled with misgivings, yet refusing to believe the worst, she fell to analyzing the thing. She knew that since coming to the ranch Pat at no time had been outside the corral save in her charge. Also she recalled that only a short hour or two before she had given him sweets and had talked with him. Nor could the horse have strayed out of the inclosure, because she remembered that the gate was latched when she had reached it. All these facts flashed across her as she stood with grave eyes sweeping the stable. Finally she stepped back to the door and gazed out into the sunlight of the corral; but, as before, the inclosure was empty and silent, and now, somehow, forbidding. She called againācalled to the horse, called to the Mexican. But again came only the echo of her voice, sounding hollow and solemn and plaintive through the stable.
Suddenly her heart stopped beating. She remembered that the hostler had left for town on foot early in the morning. And now her fears broke bounds. The horse was gone! Some one had come in Miguelās absence. Her Pat had been stolen! He was gone for ever out of her life! Standing a moment, trembling with bitterness, she darted out of the stable, out of the corral, across the patio. She sped into the house and her fatherās study, caught up the receiver of the telephone.
And then, after a long time, the connection. And her fatherās voice. And her frantic inquiry. And the Judgeās smiling reply. And her recital of the factsāpleading, pitiful, almost whimpering. And now the Judgeās serious rejoinder. And then her imperious request that he come home. And the Judgeās regretful replyācould not on account of pressing matters. And then her tearful, choking outburst into the transmitter! And now suddenly the wires crossing and a strange voice demanding that she get off. And with it her utter collapse. She whirled away from the telephone, flung herself down upon a couch, and gave way to a wild outburst of tears.
The thing was pitiful. The horse had occupied a very big place in her life. And because that place now was empty, and because she saw no promise of its ever being filled, she sobbed wretchedly a long time. Then, rising quietly, she ascended the stairs to her room. Here she sank into a chair, one that overlooked the corral, and began an analysis of the case, taking the affair up from the very first day of Patās coming into her life. She did not go further than that. Woman that she was, endowed with strongest intuitions and insight, she knew she had sounded the mystery of his disappearance, had sounded it as clearly as though she had been present.
āPatās rightful owners have found him and put in their claim!ā She got up and began to pace the floor. āI know it,ā she declared with conviction. āI know it as well as I know Iām in this room. PatāPat has beenābeen taken andāandāā Tears choked back her words. Again she turned to her bed and gave way to a paroxysm of grief.
Her tears lasted until sleep mercifully descended. And thus she lay, outstretched and disheveled, until the sun, slanting across the room, settled its mellow rays upon her. And even though the touch was light and gentle and somehow sympathetic, it awoke her. She rose and hurried to a window. Out in the corral all was quiet. She dropped into a chair and turned her eyes to the eastāout over the mesa to the distant mountains. The mountains were draped in their evening purple, which seemed to her like mourning for her lost happinessāa happiness that might have been hers always with the horse.
CHAPTER IXTHE SECOND GREAT LESSON
Next morning Pat, imprisoned in a tiny stable, tried to get out by thrusting his head against the door. But the door would not give. Alone in semi-darkness, therefore, he spent the day. Twice a Mexican youth came to feed and water him, but always the quantity was insufficient, and always the boy carefully locked the door after him. Because of this, together with the poor ventilation, Pat became irritable. He longed for the freedom of the big corralāits sunlight, the visits of his mistressābut these were steadfastly denied him. And so through another night and another day, until he became well-nigh distracted. He stamped the floor, fought flies, dozed, dreamed strange dreams, stamped the floor again. After three days of this, sounds outside told him of the return of man and horses. But not till the next morning, and then quite late, was
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