Chapter XXII. Sunset

by Andy Adams

　　Of my exile of over two years in Mexico, little need be said. By easystages, I reached the haciendas on the Rio San Juan where we hadreceived the cows in the summer of '77. The reception extended me wasall one could ask, but cooled when it appeared that my errand was oneof refuge and not of business. I concealed my offense, and was givenemployment as corporal segundo over a squad of vaqueros. But whilethe hacienda to which I was attached was larger than Las Palomas, withgreater holdings in live-stock, yet my life there was one of penalservitude. I strove to blot out past memories in the innocent pleasuresof my associates, mingling in all the social festivities, dancing withthe dark-eyed senoritas and gambling at every fiesta. Yet in the midstof the dissipation, there was ever present to my mind the thought ofa girl, likewise living a life of loneliness at the mouth of the SanMiguel.During my banishment, but twice did any word or message reach me fromthe Nueces valley. Within a few months after my locating on the Rio SanJuan, Enrique Lopez, a trusted vaquero from Las Palomas, came to thehacienda, apparently seeking employment. Recognizing me at a glance, atthe first opportunity he slipped me a letter unsigned and in an unknownhand. After reading it I breathed easier, for both Hunter and Oxenfordhad recovered, the former having been shot through the upper lobe of alung, while the latter had sustained three wounds, one of which resultedin the loss of an arm. The judge had reserved his decision until therecovery of both men was assured, but before the final adjournment ofcourt, refused the decree. I had had misgivings that this would be theresult, and the message warned me to remain away, as the stage companywas still offering a reward for my arrest. Enrique loitered around thecamp several days, and on being refused employment, made inquiry for aranch in the south and rode away in the darkness of evening. But we hadhad several little chats together, in which the rascal deliveredmany oral messages, one of which he swore by all the saints had beenintrusted to him by my own sweetheart while visiting at the ranch. ButEnrique was capable of enriching any oral message, and I was compelledto read between the lines; yet I hope the saints, to whom he dailyprayed, will blot out any untruthful embellishments.The second message was given me by Frank Nancrede, early in January,'81. As was his custom, he was buying saddle horses at Las Palomasduring the winter for trail purposes, when he learned of my whereaboutsin Mexico. Deweese had given him directions where I could be found, andas the Rio San Juan country was noted for good horses, Nancrede and acompanion rode directly from the Nueces valley to the hacienda where Iwas employed. They were on the lookout for a thousand saddle horses, andafter buying two hundred from the ranch where I was employed, securedmy services as interpreter in buying the remainder. We were less than amonth in securing the number wanted, and I accompanied the herd to theRio Grande on its way to Texas. Nancrede offered me every encouragementto leave Mexico, assuring me that Bethel & Oxenford had lost their mailcontract between San Antonio and Brownsville, and were now operating inother sections of the state. He was unable to give me the particulars,but frauds had been discovered in Star Route lines, and the governmenthad revoked nearly all the mail contracts in southern Texas. The trailboss promised me a job with any of their herds, and assured me that acow hand of my abilities would never want a situation in the north.I was anxious to go with him, and would have done so, but felt acompunction which I did not care to broach to him, for I was satisfiedhe would not understand.The summer passed, during which I made it a point to meet other droversfrom Texas who were buying horses and cattle. From several sources thereport of Nancrede, that the stage line south from San Antonio was nowin new hands, was confirmed. One drover assured me that a nationalscandal had grown out of the Star Route contracts, and several officialsin high authority had been arraigned for conspiracy to defraud. Hefurther asserted that the new contractor was now carrying the mail forten per cent, of what was formerly allowed to Bethel & Oxenford, andmaking money at the reduced rate. This news was encouraging, and afteran exile of over two years and a half, I recrossed the Rio Grande on thesame horse on which I had entered. Carefully avoiding ranches where Iwas known, two short rides put me in Las Palomas, reaching headquartersafter nightfall, where, in seclusion, I spent a restless day and night.A few new faces were about the ranch, but the old friends bade me awelcome and assured me that my fears were groundless. During the brieftime at my disposal, Miss Jean entertained me with numerous disclosuresregarding my old sweetheart. The one that both pleased and interested mewas that she was contented and happy, and that her resignation was dueto religious faith. According to my hostess's story, a camp meeting hadbeen held at Shepherd's during the fall after my banishment, by a sectcalling themselves Predestinarians. I have since learned that a beliefin a predetermined state is entertained by a great many good people, andI admit it seems as if fate had ordained that Esther McLeod and Ishould never wed. But it was a great satisfaction to know that she feltresigned and could draw solace from a spiritual source, even though thesame was denied to me. During the last meeting between Esther and MissJean, but a few weeks before, the former had confessed that there wasnow no hope of our ever marrying.As I had not seen my parents for several years, I continued my journeyto my old home on the San Antonio River. Leaving Las Palomas afternightfall, I passed the McLeod ranch after midnight. Halting my horse torest, I reviewed the past, and the best reasoning at my command showednothing encouraging on the horizon. That Esther had sought consolationfrom a spiritual source did not discourage me; for, under myobservation, where it had been put to the test, the love of man and wifeoverrode it. But to expect this contented girl to renounce her faith andbecome my wife, was expecting her to share with me nothing, unless itwas the chance of a felon's cell, and I remounted my horse and rodeaway under a starry sky, somewhat of a fatalist myself. But I derivedcontentment from my decision, and on reaching home no one could havetold that I had loved and lost. My parents were delighted to see meafter my extended absence, my sisters were growing fast into womanhood,and I was bidden the welcome of a prodigal son. During this visit a newavenue in life opened before me, and through the influence of my eldestbrother I secured a situation with a drover and followed the cattletrail until the occupation became a lost one. My last visit to LasPalomas was during the winter of 1894-95. It lacked but a few months oftwenty years since my advent in the Nueces valley. After the death ofOxenford by small-pox, I had been a frequent visitor at the ranch,business of one nature and another calling me there. But in this lastvisit, the wonderful changes which two decades had wrought in thecountry visibly impressed me, and I detected a note of decay in theold ranch. A railroad had been built, passing within ten miles of thewestern boundary line of the Ganso grant. The Las Palomas range hadbeen fenced, several large tracts of land being added after my severingactive connections with the ranch. Even the cattle, in spite of all theefforts made for their improvement, were not so good as in the old daysof the open range, or before there was a strand of wire between theNueces and Rio Grande rivers. But the alterations in the country werenothing compared to the changes in my old master and mistress. UncleLance was nearing his eighty-second birthday, physically feeble, butmentally as active as the first morning of our long acquaintance. MissJean, over twenty years the junior of the ranchero, had mellowed into aripeness consistent with her days, and in all my aimless wanderingsI never saw a brother and sister of their ages more devoted to, ordependent on each other.On the occasion of this past visit, I was in the employ of a live-stockcommission firm. A member of our house expected to attend the cattleconvention at Forth Worth in the near future, and I had been sent intothe range sections to note the conditions of stock and solicit for myemployers. The spring before, our firm had placed sixty thousand cattlefor customers. Demand continued, and the house had inquiry sufficient tojustify them in sending me out to secure, of all ages, not less than ahundred thousand steer cattle. And thus once more I found myself a guestof Las Palomos."Don't talk cattle to me," said Uncle Lance, when I mentioned mybusiness; "go to June--he'll give you the ages and numbers. And whateveryou do, Tom, don't oversell us, for wire fences have cut us off, untilit seems like old friends don't want to neighbor any more. In the daysof the open range, I used to sell every hoof I had a chance to, butsince then things have changed. Why, only last year a jury indicted ayoung man below here on the river for mavericking a yearling, and senthim to Huntsville for five years. That's a fair sample of these moderndays. There isn't a cowman in Texas to-day who amounts to a pinch ofsnuff, but got his start the same way, but if a poor fellow looks out ofthe corner of his eye now at a critter, they imagine he wants to stealit. Oh, I know them; and the bigger rustlers they were themselves on theopen range, the bitterer their persecution of the man who follows theirexample."June Deweese was then the active manager of the ranch, and aftersecuring a classification of their salable stock, I made out amemorandum and secured authority in writing, to sell their holdings atprevailing prices for Nueces river cattle. The remainder of the day wasspent with my old friends in a social visit, and as we delved into themusty past, the old man's love of the land and his matchmaking instinctsconstantly cropped out."Tom," said he, in answer to a remark of mine, "I was an awful fool tothink my experience could be of any use to you boys. Every last rascalof you went off on the trail and left me here with a big ranch tohandle. Gallup was no better than the rest, for he kept Jule Wilsonwaiting until now she's an old maid. Sis, here, always called Scales avagabond, but I still believe something could have been made of him witha little encouragement. But when the exodus of the cattle to the northwas at its height, he went off with a trail herd just like the rest ofyou. Then he followed the trail towns as a gambler, saved money, andafter the cattle driving ended, married an adventuress, and that's theend of him. The lack of a market was one of the great drawbacks toranching, but when the trail took every hoof we could breed and everyhorse we could spare, it also took my boys. Tom, when you get old,you'll understand that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. But I amperfectly resigned now. In my will, Las Palomas and everything I havegoes to Jean. She can dispose of it as she sees fit, and if I knew shewas going to leave it to Father Norquin or his successor, my fingerwouldn't be raised to stop it. I spent a lifetime of hard work acquiringthis land, and now that there is no one to care for the old ranch, Iwash my hands of it."Knowing the lifetime of self-sacrifice in securing the land of LasPalomas, I sympathized with the old ranchero in his despondency."I never blamed you much, Tom," he resumed after a silence; "butthere's something about cattle life which I can't explain. It seems todisqualify a man for ever making a good citizen afterward. He roams andruns around, wasting his youth, and gets so foxy he never marries.""But June and the widow made the riffle finally," I protested."Yes, they did, and that's something to the good, but they never hadany children. Waited ten years after Annear was killed, and then gotmarried. That was one of Jean's matches. Tom, you must go over and seeJuana before you go. There was a match that I made. Just think of it,they have eight children, and Fidel is prouder over them than I ever wasof this ranch. The natives have never disappointed me, but the Caucasianseems to be played out."I remained overnight at the ranch. After supper, sitting in his chairbefore a cheerful fire, Uncle Lance dozed off to sleep, leaving hissister and myself to entertain each other. I had little to say of mypast, and the future was not encouraging, except there was always workto do. But Miss Jean unfolded like the pages of an absorbing chronicle,and gave me the history of my old acquaintances in the valley. Only afew of the girls had married. Frances Vaux, after flirting away heryouth, had taken the veil in one of the orders in her church. My oldsweetheart was contentedly living a life of seclusion on the ranch onwhich she was born, apparently happy, but still interested in any wordof me in my wanderings. The young men of my acquaintance, except wheremarried, were scattered wide, the whereabouts of nearly all of themunknown. Tony Hunter had held the McLeod estate together, and it hadprospered exceedingly under his management. My old friend, Red Earnest,who outrode me in the relay race at the tournament in June, '77, wasmarried and serving in the Customs Service on the Rio Grande as amounted river guard.The next morning, I made the round of the Mexican quarters, greeting myold friends, before taking my leave and starting for the railroad.The cottage which had been built for Esther and me stood vacant andwindowless, being used only for a storehouse for zacahuiste. As I rodeaway, the sight oppressed me; it brought back the June time of my youth,even the hour and instant in which our paths separated. On reaching thelast swell of ground, several miles from the ranch, which would give mea glimpse of headquarters, I halted my horse in a farewell view. Thesleepy old ranch cosily nestled among the encinal oaks revived ahundred memories, some sad, some happy, many of which have returned inretrospect during lonely hours since.