Chapter IX. The Rose and its Thorn

by Andy Adams

　　Dawn found the ranch astir and a heavy fog hanging over the Frio valley.Don Pierre had a remuda corralled before sun-up, and insisted on ourriding his horses, an invitation which my employer alone declined.For the first hour or two the pack scouted the river bottoms with nosuccess, and Uncle Lance's verdict was that the valley was too soggy forany animal belonging to the cat family, so we turned back to the dividebetween the Frio and San Miguel. Here there grew among the hills manyGuajio thickets, and from the first one we beat, the hounds opened on ahot trail in splendid chorus. The pack led us through thickets for overa mile, when they suddenly turned down a ravine, heading for the river.With the ground ill splendid condition for trailing, the dogs in fullcry, the quarry sought every shelter possible; but within an hour ofstriking the scent, the pack came to bay in the encinal. On coming upwith the hounds, we found the animal was a large catamount. A singleshot brought him from his perch in a scraggy oak, and the first chase ofthe day was over. The pelt was worthless and was not taken.It was nearly noon when the kill was made, and Don Pierre insistedthat we return to the ranch. Uncle Lance protested against wasting theremainder of the day, but the courteous Creole urged that the groundwould be in fine condition for hunting at least a week longer; this hunthe declared was merely preliminary--to break the pack together and givethem a taste of the chase before attacking the cougar. "Ah," said DonPierre, with a deprecating shrug of the shoulders, "you have nothing tohurry you home. I come by your rancho an' stay one hol' week. Youcome by mine, al' time hurry. Sacre! Let de li'l dogs rest, an' in demornin', mebbe we hunt de cougar. Ah, Meester Lance, we must haff depack fresh for him. By Gar, he was one dam' wil' fellow. Mek one twopass, so. Biff! two dog dead."Uncle Lance yielded, and we rode back to the ranch. The next morning ourparty included the three daughters of our host. Don Pierre led the wayon a roan stallion, and after two hours' riding we crossed the SanMiguel to the north of his ranch. A few miles beyond we entered somechalky hills, interspersed with white chaparral thickets which were justbursting into bloom, with a fragrance that was almost intoxicating.Under the direction of our host, we started to beat a long chain ofthese thickets, and were shortly rewarded by hearing the pack givemouth. The quarry kept to the cover of the thickets for several miles,impeding the chase until the last covert in the chain was reached, wherea fight occurred with the lead hound. Don Pierre was the first to reachthe scene, and caught several glimpses of a monster puma as he slunkaway through the Brazil brush, leaving one of the Don's favorite houndslacerated to the bone. But the pack passed on, and, lifting the woundeddog to a vaquero's saddle, we followed, lustily shouting to the hounds.The spoor now turned down the San Miguel, and the pace was such thatit took hard riding to keep within hearing. Mr. Vaux and Uncle Lanceusually held the lead, the remainder of the party, including the girls,bringing up the rear. The chase continued down stream for fully an hour,until we encountered some heavy timber on the main Frio, our coursehaving carried us several miles to the north of the McLeod ranch. Somedistance below the juncture with the San Miguel the river made a largehorseshoe, embracing nearly a thousand acres, which was covered with adense growth of ash, pecan, and cypress. The trail led into this jungle,circling it several times before leading away. We were fortunatelyable to keep track of the chase from the baying of the hounds withoutentering the timber, and were watching its course, when suddenly itchanged; the pack followed the scent across a bridge of driftwood on theFrio, and started up the river in full cry.As the chase down the San Miguel passed beyond the mouth of the creek,Theodore Quayle and Frances Vaux dropped out and rode for the McLeodranch. It was still early in the day, and understanding their motive, Iknew they would rejoin us if their mission was successful. By the suddenturn of the chase, we were likely to pass several miles south of thehome of my sweetheart, but our location could be easily followed by themusic of the pack. Within an hour after leaving us, Theodore and Francesrejoined the chase, adding Tony Hunter and Esther to our numbers. Withthis addition, I lost interest in the hunt, as the course carried usstraightaway five miles up the stream. The quarry was cunning anddelayed the pack at every thicket or large body of timber encountered.Several times he craftily attempted to throw the hounds off the scentby climbing leaning trees, only to spring down again. But the pack wererunning wide and the ruse was only tiring the hunted. The scent at timesleft the river and circled through outlying mesquite groves, alwayskeeping well under cover. On these occasions we rested our horses, forthe hunt was certain to return to the river.From the scattering order in which we rode, I was afforded a goodopportunity for free conversation with Esther. But the information Iobtained was not very encouraging. Her mother's authority had grown sosevere that existence under the same roof was a mere armistice betweenmother and daughter, while this day's sport was likely to break thealready strained relations. The thought that her suffering was largelyon my account, nerved me to resolution.The kill was made late in the day, in a bend of the river, about fifteenmiles above the Vaux ranch, forming a jungle of several thousand acres.In this thickety covert the fugitive made his final stand, taking refugein an immense old live-oak, the mossy festoons of which partiallyscreened him from view. The larger portion of the cavalcade remained inthe open, but the rest of us, under the leadership of the two rancheros,forced our horses through the underbrush and reached the hounds. Thepack were as good as exhausted by the long run, and, lest the animalshould spring out of the tree and escape, we circled it at a distance.On catching a fair view of the quarry, Uncle Lance called for a carbine.Two shots through the shoulders served to loosen the puma's footing,when he came down by easy stages from limb to limb, spitting and hissingdefiance into the upturned faces of the pack. As he fell, we dashed into beat off the dogs as a matter of precaution, but the bullets had donetheir work, and the pack mouthed the fallen feline with entire impunity.Dan Happersett dragged the dead puma out with a rope over the neck forthe inspection of the girls, while our horses, which had had no lessthan a fifty-mile ride, were unsaddled and allowed a roll and a halfhour's graze before starting back. As we were watering our mounts, Icaught my employer's ear long enough to repeat what I had learned aboutEsther's home difficulties. After picketing our horses, we strolled awayfrom the remainder of the party, when Uncle Lance remarked: "Tom, yourchance has come where you must play your hand and play it boldly. I'llkeep Tony at the Vaux ranch, and if Esther has to go home to-night, why,of course, you'll have to take her. There's your chance to run off andmarry. Now, Tom, you've never failed me yet; and this thing has gone farenough. We'll give old lady McLeod good cause to hate us from now on.I've got some money with me, and I'll rob the other boys, and to-nightyou make a spoon or spoil a horn. Sabe?"I understood and approved. As we jogged along homeward, Esther and Ifell to the rear, and I outlined my programme. Nor did she protest whenI suggested that to-night was the accepted time. Before we reached theVaux ranch every little detail was arranged. There was a splendid moon,and after supper she plead the necessity of returning home. Meanwhileevery cent my friends possessed had been given me, and the two besthorses of Las Palomas were under saddle for the start. Uncle Lance wasarranging a big hunt for the morrow with Tony Hunter and Don Pierre,when Esther took leave of her friends, only a few of whom were cognizantof our intended elopement.With fresh mounts under us, we soon covered the intervening distancebetween the two ranches. I would gladly have waived touching at theMcLeod ranch, but Esther had torn her dress during the day and insistedon a change, and I, of necessity, yielded. The corrals were at somedistance from the main buildings, and, halting at a saddle shedadjoining, Esther left me and entered the house. Fortunately her motherhad retired, and after making a hasty change of apparel, she returnedunobserved to the corrals. As we quietly rode out from the inclosure,my spirits soared to the moon above us. The night was an ideal one.Crossing the Frio, we followed the divide some distance, keeping in theopen, and an hour before midnight forded the Nueces at Shepherd's. Aflood of recollections crossed my mind, as our steaming horses benttheir heads to drink at the ferry. Less than a year before, in thisvery grove, I had met her; it was but two months since, on those hillsbeyond, we had gathered flowers, plighted our troth, and exchanged ourfirst rapturous kiss. And the thought that she was renouncing home andall for my sake, softened my heart and nerved me to every exertion.Our intention was to intercept the south-bound stage at the firstroad house south of Oakville. I knew the hour it was due to leave thestation, and by steady riding we could connect with it at the firststage stand some fifteen miles below. Lighthearted and happy, we setout on this last lap of our ride. Our horses seemed to understand theemergency, as they put the miles behind them, thrilling us with theirenergy and vigor. Never for a moment in our flight did my sweetheartdiscover a single qualm over her decision, while in my case all scrupleswere buried in the hope of victory. Recrossing the Nueces and enteringthe stage road, we followed it down several miles, sighting the stagestand about two o'clock in the morning. I was saddle weary from thehunt, together with this fifty-mile ride, and rejoiced in reaching ourtemporary destination. Esther, however, seemed little the worse for thelong ride.The welcome extended by the keeper of this relay station was gruffenough. But his tone and manner moderated when he learned we werepassengers for Corpus Christi. When I made arrangements with him to lookafter our horses for a week or ten days at a handsome figure, he becameamiable, invited us to a cup of coffee, and politely informed us thatthe stage was due in half an hour. But on its arrival, promptly on time,our hearts sank within us. On the driver's box sat an express guardholding across his knees a sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun. As ithalted, two other guards stepped out of the coach, similarly armed. Thestage was carrying an unusual amount of treasure, we were informed, andno passengers could be accepted, as an attempted robbery was expectedbetween this and the next station.Our situation became embarrassing. For the first time during our ride,Esther showed the timidity of her sex. The chosen destination of ourhoneymoon, nearly a hundred miles to the south, was now out of thequestion. To return to Oakville, where a sister and friends of mysweetheart resided, seemed the only avenue open. I had misgivings thatit was unsafe, but Esther urged it, declaring that Mrs. Martin wouldoffer no opposition, and even if she did, nothing now could come thatwould ever separate us. We learned from the keeper that Jack Martin wasdue to drive the north-bound stage out of Oakville that morning, and wasexpected to pass this relay station about daybreak. This was favorable,and we decided to wait and allow the stage to pass north before resumingour journey.On the arrival of the stage, we learned that the down coach had beenattacked, but the robbers, finding it guarded, had fled after anexchange of shots in the darkness. This had a further depressing effecton my betrothed, and only my encouragement to be brave and face thedilemma confronting us kept her up. Bred on the frontier, this littleranch girl was no weakling; but the sudden overturn of our well-laidplans had chilled my own spirits as well as hers. Giving the up stagea good start of us, we resaddled and started for Oakville, slightlycrestfallen but still confident. In the open air Esther's fearsgradually subsided, and, invigorated by the morning and the gallop, wereached our destination after our night's adventure with hopes buoyantand colors flying.Mrs. Martin looked a trifle dumfounded at her early callers, but I lostno time in informing her that our mission was an elopement, and askedher approval and blessing. Surprised as she was, she welcomed us tobreakfast, inquiring of our plans and showing alarm over our experience.Since Oakville was a county seat where a license could be secured, forfear of pursuit I urged an immediate marriage, but Mrs. Martin could seeno necessity for haste. There was, she said, no one there whom she wouldallow to solemnize a wedding of her sister, and, to my chagrin, Estheragreed with her.This was just what I had dreaded; but Mrs. Martin, with apparententhusiasm over our union, took the reins in her own hands, and decidedthat we should wait until Jack's return, when we would all take thestage to Pleasanton, where an Episcopal minister lived. My heart sankat this, for it meant a delay of two days, and I stood up and stoutlyprotested. But now that the excitement of our flight had abated, my ownEsther innocently sided with her sister, and I was at my wit's end. Toall my appeals, the sisters replied with the argument that there was nohurry--that while the hunt lasted at the Vaux ranch Tony Hunter could bedepended upon to follow the hounds; Esther would never be missed untilhis return; her mother would suppose she was with the Vaux girls, andwould be busy preparing a lecture against her return.Of course the argument of the sisters won the hour. Though dreading someunforeseen danger, I temporarily yielded. I knew the motive of the huntwell enough to know that the moment we had an ample start it would beabandoned, and the Las Palomas contingent would return to the ranch. YetI dare not tell, even my betrothed, that there were ulterior motivesin my employer's hunting on the Frio, one of which was to afford anopportunity for our elopement. Full of apprehension and alarm, I took aroom at the village hostelry, for I had our horses to look after,and secured a much-needed sleep during the afternoon. That evening Ireturned to the Martin cottage, to urge again that we carry out ouroriginal programme by taking the south-bound stage at midnight. But allI could say was of no avail. Mrs. Martin was equal to every suggestion.She had all the plans outlined, and there was no occasion for me todo any thinking at all. Corpus Christi was not to be considered for asingle moment, compared to Pleasanton and an Episcopalian service. Whatcould I do?At an early hour Mrs. Martin withdrew. The reaction from our escapadehad left a pallor on my sweetheart's countenance, almost alarming.Noticing this, I took my leave early, hoping that a good night's restwould restore her color and her spirits. Returning to the hostelry, Iresignedly sought my room, since there was nothing I could do but wait.Tossing and pitching on my bed, I upbraided myself for having returnedto Oakville, where any interference with our plans could possiblydevelop.The next morning at breakfast, I noticed that I was the object ofparticular attention, and of no very kindly sort. No one even gave mea friendly nod, while several avoided my glances. Supposing that somerumor of our elopement might be abroad, I hurriedly finished my mealand started for the Martins'. On reaching the door, I was met by itsmistress, who, I had need to remind myself, was the sister of mybetrothed. To my friendly salutation, she gave me a scornful, witheringlook."You're too late, young man," she said. "Shortly after you left lastnight, Esther and Jack Oxenford took a private conveyance for Beeville,and are married before this. You Las Palomas people are slow. Old LanceLovelace thought he was playing it cute San Jacinto Day, but Isaw through his little game. Somebody must have told him he was amatchmaker. Well, just give him my regards, and tell him he don't knowthe first principles of that little game. Tell him to drop in some timewhen he's passing; I may be able to give him some pointers that I'm notusing at the moment. I hope your sorrow will not exceed my happiness.Good-morning, sir."