the contract went to a needy and honest contractor when the bids were opened. and by night the whole garrison was in excitement over brewster's inexplicable resignation. it was inexplicable, but not unexplained. he went around to all the officers with the exception only of landor and ellton, and told that he had some time since decided to give up the service and to read and practise law in tucson. no one was inclined to believe it. but no one knew what to believe, for ellton and his captain held their tongues. they left the commandant himself in ignorance.
brewster got hunting leave, pending the acceptance of his resignation, and went to the railway. in less than a week he was all but forgotten in a newer interest.
a raiding party of hostiles had passed near the fort, and had killed, with particular atrocity, a family of settlers. the man and his wife had been tortured to death, the baby had had its brains beaten out against the trunk of a tree, a very young child had been hung by the wrist tendons to two meat hooks on the walls of the ranch-house, and left there to die. one big boy had had his eyelids and lips and nose cut off, and had been staked down to the ground with his remains of a face lying over a red-ant hole. only two had [pg 196]managed to escape,—a child of ten, who had carried his tiny sister in his arms, twenty miles of ca?ons and hills, to the post.
felipa had taken charge of the two, being the only woman in the place not already provided with children of her own, and had roused herself to an amount of capability her husband had never suspected her of. she belonged to the tribe of unoccupied women, as a rule, not that she was indolent so much as that she appeared to have no sense of time nor of the value of it. landor, who had always one absorbing interest or another to expend his whole energy upon, even if it were nothing larger than running the troop kitchen, thought her quite aimless, though he never addressed that or any other reproach to her. he was contented at the advent of the hapless orphans for one thing, that they superseded the ellton baby, which he secretly detested with a kind of unreasonable jealousy.
his contentment was not to last for long, however. the quartermaster broke in upon it rudely as he sat on the porch one morning after guard-mounting, "have you seen the man who came up with the scouts from grant?"
landor knew that the scouts had come in the afternoon before, and were in camp across the creek; but he had not seen their chief, and he said so.
"handsome fellow," went on the quartermaster, "and looks like a gentleman. glories in the ouida-esque name of charles morely cairness, and signs it in full."
[pg 197]
"sounds rather like a family magazine novel hero, doesn't it?" landor said, with a hint of a sneer, then repented, and added that cairness had been with him as guide, and was really a fine fellow. he turned his eyes slowly, without moving, and looked at felipa. she was sitting near them in a patch of sun-sifted shade behind the madeira vines, sewing on a pinafore for the little girl who was just then, with her brother, crossing the parade to the post school, as school call sounded. he knew well enough that she must have heard, her ears were so preternaturally sharp. but the only sign she gave was that her lips had set a little. so he waited in considerable uneasiness for what might happen. he understood her no more than he had that first day he had met her riding with the troops from kansas, when her indifferent manner had chilled him, and it was perhaps because he insisted upon working his reasoning from the basis that her character was complicated, whereas it was absolutely simple. he met constantly with her with much the same sort of mental sensation that one has physically, where one takes a step in the dark, expecting a fall in the ground, and comes down upon a level. the jar always bewildered him. he was never sure what she would do next, though she had never yet, save once, done anything flagrantly unwise. he dreaded, however, the moment when she might chance to meet cairness face to face.
which happened upon the following day. and he was there to see it all, so that the question he had not cared to ask was answered forever beyond the possibility[pg 198] of a misunderstanding. it was stable time, and she walked down to the corrals with him. he left her for a moment by the gate of the quartermaster's corral while he went over to the picket line. the bright clear air of a mountain afternoon hummed with the swish click-clock, swish click-clock of the curry-combs and brushes, and the busy scraping of the stable brooms in the stalls.
felipa stood leaning against the gate post, her bare head outlined in bold black and white against the white parasol that hung over her shoulders. she was watching one of the troop herds coming up from water,—the fine, big horses, trotting, bucking, rearing, kicking, biting at each other with squeals and whinnyings, tossing their manes and whisking their tails. some of them had rolled in the creek bed, and then in the dust, and were caked with mud from neck to croup. they frisked over to their own picket line, and got into rows for the grooming.
she was looking at them with such absorbed delight that she started violently when close behind her a voice she had not heard in four long, repressed years spoke with the well-remembered intonation: "he had better go to the farrier the first thing in the morning. i can't have him stove-up," and cairness came out of the gate.
he saw her, and without the hesitation of an instant raised his slouch hat and kept on. a government scout does not stop to pass the time of day with an officer's wife.
it would have been best so, and she knew it, had[pg 199] indeed meant to make it like this on her part, but a feeling swept over her that if they did not speak now, they would pass down to their deaths in silence. she reached out her hand to stop him, and spoke.
he turned about and stood still, with his head uncovered, looking straight into her face. another man might have wished it a little less open and earnest, a little more downcast and modest, but he liked it so. yet he waited, erect and immovable, and she saw that he meant that every advance should come from her. he was determined to force her to remember that he was a chief of scouts.
she waited, too, made silent by sudden realization of how futile anything that she might say would be. "i am glad to see you again," she faltered; "it is four years since black river and the cloud-burst." she was angry at her own stupidity and want of resource, and her tone was more casual than she meant it to be.
his own was instantly as cold. "i supposed you had quite forgotten all that," he said.
she had done very well, up to then, but she was at the end of her strength. it had been strained to the snapping for a long while, and now it snapped. slowly, painfully, a hot, dark flush spread over her face to the black line of her hair. the squaw was manifested in the changed color. it altered her whole face, while it lasted, then it dropped back and left a dead gray pallor. her lips were quivering and yellow, and her eyes paled oddly, as those of a frightened wild beast do. but still they were not lowered.
[pg 200]
cairness could not take his own from them, and they stood so for what seemed to them both a dumb and horrible eternity, until landor came up, and she caught at his arm to steady herself. the parasol whirled around on its stick and fell. cairness picked it up, knocked off the dust, and handed it to landor. he could see that he knew, and it was a vast relief.
it is only a feeble love in need of stimulants and spicing that craves secrecy. a strong one seeks the open and a chance to fight to the end, whatever that may be, before the judges of earth and heaven. they stood facing each other, challenging across the woman with the look in their eyes that men have worn since long ere ever the warriors of old disputed the captive before the walls of troy.
it made it none the better that only landor had the right to give her the strength of his arm, and that only cairness had the right to the desperate, imploring look she threw him. it was a swift glance of a moment, and then she reached out a steady enough hand for the parasol, and smiled. it had been much too tragic to last—and in those surroundings. it was a flash of the naked swords of pain, and then they were sheathed. but each had left a sharp gash. no one had seen it. perhaps to many there would have been nothing to see.
landor was the first to find speech. in the harsh light of the pause he saw that it was foolish as well as useless to beg the issue. "has mrs. landor told you that i found your letter to her on the body of the prospector, and delivered it to her?" the words were[pg 201] sufficiently overbearing, but the manner was unendurable.
it occurred to cairness that it was ungenerous of landor to revenge himself by a shot from the safe intrenchment of his rank. "mrs. landor has had time to tell me nothing," he said, and turned on his spurred heel and went off in the direction of the post. but it was not a situation, after all, into which one could infuse much dignity. he was retreating, anyway it might be looked at, and there is bound to be more or less ignominy in the most creditable retreat.
as they walked back to the post, landor did not speak to felipa. there was nothing he could say unless he were to storm unavailingly, and that was by no means his way. and there was nothing for which he could, with reason, blame her. all things considered, she had acted very well. she moved beside him serenely, not in the least cowed.
later, when he came in from dress parade, he found her reading in the sitting room. she looked up and smiled, but his face was very angry, and the chin strap of his helmet below his mouth and the barbaric yellow plume added to the effect of awful and outraged majesty. he stopped in front of her. "i have been thinking things over," he said. she waited. "three years ago i offered you your liberty to marry that man. i repeat the offer now."
she stood up very deliberately and faced him with a look he had never seen before in her eyes, dark and almost murderous. but she had her fury under [pg 202]control. he had guessed that her rage might be a very ugly thing, but he drew back a step at the revelation of its possibilities. twice she tried hard to speak. she put her hand to her throat, where her voice burned away as it rose. then it came from the depths of that being of hers, which he had never fathomed.
"are you trying to drive me off?" she said measuredly. "do you wish me to go away from you? if you do, i will go. i will go, and i will never come back. but i will not go to him—not on my own account. it doesn't matter what happens to me; but on your account and on his, i will never go to him—not while you are alive." she stopped, and every nerve in her body was tense to quivering, her drawn lips worked.
"and if i were out of the way?" he suggested.
she had never been cruel intentionally before, and afterward she regretted it. but she raised her eyebrows and turned her back on him without answering.
