The Girl of the Golden West (5 page)

But Mr. Jack Rance, the Sheriff of Manzaneta County, was never
known to move otherwise than slowly, deliberately. Taking from his
pocket a smoothly-creased handkerchief he proceeded to dust
languidly first one and then the other of his boots; and not until
he had succeeded in flicking the last grain of dust from them did
he take up the business in hand.

"Gentlemen, what's wrong with the cyards?" he now began in his
peculiar drawling voice.

Sonora pointed to the faro table.

"The Sidney Duck's cheated!" he said—an accusation which was
responsible for a renewal of outcries and caused a number of men to
pounce upon the faro dealer.

Trinidad ran a significant hand around his collar.

"String 'im! Come on, you—!" once more he cried. But on seeing
the Sheriff raise a restraining hand he desisted from pulling the
Australian along.

"Wait a minute!" commanded the Sheriff.

The miners with the prisoner in their midst stood stock-still.
Now the Sheriff's features lost some of their usual inscrutability
and for a moment became hard and stern. Slowly he let his eyes
wander comprehensively about the saloon: first, they travelled to a
small balcony—reached by a ladder drawn down or up at
will—decorated with red calico curtains, garlands of cedar and
bittersweet, while the railing was ornamented with a wildcat's skin
and a stuffed fawn's head; from the ceiling with its strings of red
peppers, onions and apples they fell on a stuffed grizzly bear,
which stood at the entrance to the dance-hall, with a little green
parasol in its paw and an old silk hat upon its head; from it they
shifted to the gaudy bar with its paraphernalia of fancy glasses,
show-cases of coloured liquors and its pair of scales for weighing
the gold dust; and from that to a keg, the top of which could be
withdrawn without engendering the slightest suspicion that it
represented other than an ordinary receptacle for liquor. Two
notices tacked upon the wall also caught and held his glance, his
eyes dwelling most affectionately on the one reading: "A Real Home
For The Boys."

That there was such a thing as sentiment in the make-up of the
Sheriff of Manzaneta County few people, perhaps, would have
believed. Nevertheless, at the thought that this placard inspired,
he dismissed whatever inclination he might have had to deal
leniently with the culprit, and calmly observed:

"There is no reason, gentlemen, of being in a hurry. I've got
something to say about this. I don't forget, although I am the
Sheriff of Manzaneta County, that I'm running four games. But it's
men like The Sidney Duck here that casts reflections on
square-minded, sporting men like myself. And worse—far worse,
gentlemen, he casts reflections on The Polka, the establishment of
the one decent woman in Cloudy."

"You bet!" affirmed Nick, indignantly.

"Yes, a lady, d'you hear me?" stormed Sonora, addressing the
prisoner; then: "You lily-livered skunk!"

"Oh, let's string 'im up!" urged Trinidad.

"Yes, come on, you…!" was Handsome's ejaculation, contriving, at
last, to get his hands on the faro dealer.

But again the Sheriff would have none of it.

"Hold on, hold on—" he began and paused to philosophise: "After
all, gents, what's death? A kick and you're off;" and then went on:
"I've thought of a worse punishment. Give him his coat."

Surprised and perplexed at this order, Handsome, reluctantly,
assisted the culprit into his coat.

"Put him over there," the Sheriff now ordered.

Whereupon, obedient to the instructions of that personage, The
Sidney Duck was roughly put down into a chair; and while he was
firmly held into it, Rance strolled nonchalantly over to the faro
table and picked out a card from the deck there. Returning, he
quickly plucked a stick-pin from the prisoner's scarf, saying,
while he suited his action to his words:

"See, now I place the deuce of spades over his heart as a
warning. He can't leave the camp, and he never plays cyards
again—see?" And while the men, awed to silence, stood looking at
one another, he instructed Handsome to pass the word through the
camp.

"Ow, now, don't si that! Don't si that!" bawled out the card
sharp.

The sentence met with universal approval. Rance waved an
authoritative hand towards the door; and the incident, a few
seconds later, passed into its place in the camp records. Albeit,
in those seconds, and while the men were engrossed in the agreeable
task of ejecting The Sidney Duck, The Polka harboured another
guest, no less unwelcome, who made his way unobserved through the
saloon to become an unobtrusive spectator of the doings in the
dance-hall.

In the space of six months one can do little or much harm. The
young bandit,—for he had kept his oath to his father,—flattered
himself that he had done much. In all the mining camps of the
Sierras the mere mention of the name of Ramerrez brought forth
execrations. Not a stage started out with its precious golden
freight without its passengers having misgivings that they would be
held up before reaching Sacramento. Messengers armed with shotguns
were always to be found at their post beside the drivers; yet,
despite all precautions, not a week passed without a report that
the stage out of this or that camp, had been attacked and the
passengers forced to surrender their money and valuables. Under no
circumstances, however, were any of Ramerrez's own countrymen
molested. If, by any chance, the road agent made a mistake and
stopped a party of native Californians or Mexicans, they were at
once permitted to proceed on their way with the bandit-leader's
profuse apologies.

But it was altogether different with Americans. The men of that
race were compelled to surrender their gold; although so far as he
was concerned, their women were exempt from robbery. As a matter of
fact, he had few chances to show his chivalry, since few women were
living, at that time, in the Sierras. Nevertheless, it happened in
rare instances that a stage was held up which contained one or two
of them, and they were never known to complain of his treatment.
And so far, at least, he had contrived to avoid any serious
bloodshed. Two or three messengers, it is true, had been slightly
wounded; but that was the most that his worst enemies could charge
against him.

As for Ramerrez's own attitude towards the life he was leading,
it must be confessed that, the plunge once taken, his days and
nights were too full of excitement and adventure to leave him time
to brood. Somewhat to his own surprise, he had inherited his
father's power of iron domination. Young as he was, not one of his
father's seasoned band of cut-throats ever questioned his right or
his ability to command. At first, no doubt, they followed him
through a rude spirit of loyalty; but after a short time it was
because they had found in him all the qualities of a leader of men,
one whose plans never miscarried. Fully two-thirds of the present
band were vassals, as it were, in his family, while all were of
Spanish or Mexican descent. In truth, Ramerrez himself was the only
one among them who had any gringo blood in his veins. And hence not
a tale of the outlaw's doings was complete without the narrator
insisting upon it that the leader of the band—the road agent
himself—closely resembled an American. One and all of his victims
agreed that he spoke with an American accent, while the few who had
been able to see his features on a certain occasion when the red
bandanna, which he wore about his face, had fallen, never failed to
maintain that he looked like an American.

As a matter of fact, Ramerrez not only bore the imprint of his
mother's race in features and in speech, but the more he made war
upon them, the more he realised that it was without any real
feeling of hostility. In spite of his early training and in spite
of his oath, he could not share his father's bitterness. True, the
gringos had wrecked the fortunes of his house; it was due to them
that his sole inheritance was an outlaw's name and an outlaw's
leadership. And yet, despite it all, there was another fact that he
could not forget,—the fact that he himself was one half gringo, one
half the same race as that of the unforgotten Girl whom he had met
on the road to Sacramento. Indeed, it had been impossible to forget
her, for she had stirred some depth in him, the existence of which
he had never before suspected. He was haunted by the thought of her
attractive face, her blue eyes and merry, contagious laugh. For the
hundredth time he recalled his feelings on that glorious day when
he had intercepted her on the great highway. And with this memory
would come a sudden shame of himself and occupation,—a realisation
of the barrier which he had deliberately put between the present
and the past. Up to the hour when he had parted from her, and had
remained spellbound, seated on his horse at the fork of the roads,
watching the vanishing coach up to the last minute, he was still a
Spanish gentleman, still worthy in himself,—whatever his father had
done,—to offer his love and his devotion to a pure and honest girl.
But now he was an outlaw, a road agent going from one robbery to
another, likely at any time to stain his hand with the life-blood
of a fellow man. And this pretence that he was stealing in a
righteous cause, that he was avenging the wrongs that had been done
to his countrymen,—why, it was the rankest hypocrisy! He knew in
his heart that vengeance and race hatred had nothing whatever to do
with it. It was because he loved it like a game, a game of
unforeseen, unguessed danger. The fever of it was in his blood,
like strong drink,—and with every day's adventure, the thirst for
it grew stronger.

Yet, however personally daring, Ramerrez was the last person in
the world to trust to chance for his operations, more than was
absolutely necessary. He handled his men with shrewd judgment and
strict discipline. Furthermore, never was an attack made that was
not the outcome of a carefully matured plan. A prime factor in
Ramerrez' success had from the first been the information which he
was able to obtain from the Mexicans, not connected with his band,
concerning the places that the miners used as temporary
depositories for their gold; and it was information of this sort
that led Ramerrez and his men to choose a certain Mexican
settlement in the mountains as a base of operations: namely, the
tempting fact that a large amount of gold was stored nightly in the
Polka Saloon, at the neighbouring camp on Cloudy Mountain.

And there was still another reason.

Despite the fact that his heart had been genuinely touched by
the many and unusual attractions of the Girl, it is not intended to
convey the idea that he was austere or incapable of passion for
anyone else. For that was not so. Although, to give the bandit his
due, he had remained quite exemplary, when one considers his
natural charm as well as the fascination which his adventurous life
had for his country-women. Unfortunately, however, in one of his
weak moments, he had foolishly permitted himself to become
entangled with a Mexican woman—Nina Micheltoreña, by name—whose
jealous nature now threatened to prove a serious handicap to him.
It was a particularly awkward situation in which he found himself
placed, inasmuch as this woman had furnished him with much valuable
information. In fact, it was she who had called his attention to
the probable spoils to be had in the American camp near by. It can
readily be imagined, therefore, that it was not without a
premonition of trouble to come that he sought the Mexican
settlement with the intention of paying her a hundred-fold for her
valuable assistance in the past and then be through with her for
good and all.

The Mexican or greaser settlements had little in them that
resembled their American neighbours. In the latter there were few
women, for the long distance that the American pioneers had to
travel before reaching the gold-fields of California, the hardships
that they knew had to be encountered, deterred them from bringing
their wives and daughters. But with the Mexicans it was wholly
different. The number of women in their camps almost equalled that
of the men, and the former could always be seen, whenever the
weather permitted, strolling about or sitting in the doorways
chatting with their neighbours, while children were everywhere. In
fact, everything about the Mexican settlements conveyed the
impression that they had come to stay—a decided contrast to the
transient appearance of the camps of the Americans.

It was one evening late in the fall that Ramerrez and his band
halted just outside of this particular Mexican settlement. And
after instructing his men where they should meet him the following
day, he sent them off to enjoy themselves for the night with their
friends. For, Ramerrez, although exercising restraint over his
band, never failed to see to it that they had their pleasures as
well as their duties—a trait in his character that had not a little
to do with his great influence over his men. And so it happened
that he made his way alone up the main street to the hall where a
dance was going on.

The scene that met his eyes on entering the long, low room was a
gay one. It was a motley crowd gathered there in which the
Mexicans, not unnaturally, predominated. Here and there, however,
were native Californians, Frenchmen, Germans and a few Americans,
the latter conspicuous by the absence of colour in their dress; for
with the exception of an occasional coatless man in a red or blue
shirt, they wore faded, old, black coats,—frequently frock-coats,
at that,—which certainly contrasted unfavourably, at least so far
as heightening the gaiety of the scene was concerned, with the
green velvet jackets, brilliant waistcoats with gold filigree and
silver buttons and red sashes of the Mexicans. That there was not a
man present but what was togged out in his best and was armed, it
goes without saying, even if the weapons of the Mexicans were in
the form of murderous knives concealed somewhere about their
persons instead of belts with guns and knives openly displayed, as
was the case with the Americans.

At the time of the outlaw's entrance into the dance-hall the
fandango was over. But presently the fiddles, accompanied by
guitars, struck up a waltz, and almost instantly some twenty or
more men and women took the floor; those not engaged in dancing
surrounding the dancers, clapping their hands and shouting their
applause. In order to see if the woman he sought was present, it
was necessary for Ramerrez to push to the very front of the crowd
of lookers-on, where he was not long in observing that nearly all
the women present were of striking appearance and danced well;
likewise, he noted, that none compared either in looks or grace
with Nina Micheltoreña who, he had to acknowledge, even if his
feelings for her were dead, was a superb specimen of a woman.

Good blood ran in the veins of Nina Micheltoreña. It is not in
the province of this story to tell how it was that a favourite in
the best circles of Monterey came to be living in a Mexican camp in
the Sierras. Suffice it to say that her fall from grace had been
rapid, though her dissolute career had in no way diminished her
beauty. Indeed, her features were well-nigh perfect, her skin
transparently clear, if dark, and her form was suppleness itself as
she danced. And that she was the undisputed belle of the evening
was made apparent by the number of men who watched her with eyes
that marvelled at her grace when dancing, and surrounded her
whenever she stopped, each pleading with her to accept him as a
partner.

Almost every colour of the rainbow had a place in her costume
for the occasion: The bodice was of light blue silk; the skirt
orange; encircling her small waist was a green sash; while her
jet-black hair was fastened with a crimson ribbon. Diamonds flashed
from the earrings in her ears as well as from the rings on her
fingers. All in all, it was scarcely to be wondered at that her
charms stirred to the very depths the fierce passion of the
desperate characters about her.

That Ramerrez dreaded the interview which he had determined to
have with his confederate can easily be understood by anyone who
has ever tried to sever his relations with an enamoured woman. In
fact the outlaw dreaded it so much that he decided to postpone it
as long as he could. And so, after sauntering aimlessly about the
room, and coming, unexpectedly, across a woman of his acquaintance,
he began to converse with her, supposing, all the time, that Nina
Micheltoreña was too occupied with the worshippers at her shrine to
perceive that he was in the dance-hall. But it was decidedly a case
of the wish being father to the thought: Not a movement had he made
since he entered that she was not cognisant of it and, although she
hated to acknowledge it to herself, deep down in her heart she was
conscious that he was not as thoroughly under the sway of her dark
eyes as she would have wished. Something had happened in the last
few weeks that had brought about a change in him, but just what it
was she was unable to determine. There were moments when she saw
plainly that he was much more occupied with his daring plans than
he was with thoughts of her. So far, it was true, there had been no
evidences on his part of any hesitation in confiding his schemes to
her. Of that she was positive. But, on the other hand, she had
undoubtedly lost some of her influence over him. It did not lessen
her nervousness to realise that he had been in the hall for some
time without making any effort to see her. Besides, the appointment
had been of his own making, inasmuch as he had sent word by one of
his band that she should meet him to-night in this place.
Furthermore, she knew that he had in mind one of the boldest
projects he had yet attempted and needed, to insure success, every
scrap of knowledge that she possessed. In the meantime, while she
waited for him to seek her out, she resolved to show him the extent
of her power to fascinate others; and from that moment never had
she seemed more attractive and alluring to her admirers, in all of
whom she appeared to excite the fiercest of passions. In fact, one
word whispered in an ear by those voluptuous lips and marvellously
sweet, musical voice, and the recipient would have done her
bidding, even had she demanded a man's life as the price of her
favour.

It is necessary, however, to single out one man as proving an
exception to this sweeping assertion, although this particular
person seemed no less devoted than the other men present. He was
plainly an American and apparently a stranger to his countrymen as
well as to the Mexicans. His hair was white and closely cropped,
the eyebrows heavy and very black, the lips nervous and thin but
denoting great determination, and the face was tanned to the colour
of old leather, sufficiently so as to be noticeable even in a
country where all faces were tanned, swarthy, and dark. One would
have thought that this big, heavy, but extremely-active man whose
clothes, notwithstanding the wear and tear of the road, were
plainly cut on "'Frisco patterns," was precisely the person
calculated to make an impression upon a woman like Nina
Micheltoreña; and, yet, oddly enough, he was the only man in the
room whose attentions seemed distasteful to her. It could not be
accounted for on the ground of his nationality, for she danced
gladly with others of his race. Nor did it look like caprice on her
part. On the contrary, there was an expression on her face that
resembled something like fear when she refused to be cajoled into
dancing with him. At length, finding her adamant, the man left the
room.