The Headless Horseman Part 38

"Ho, ho! Ma.s.sr Woodley, dis chile want nuffin 't all. Only look in t'

tell Missa Looey dat soon's she done eat her brekfa.s.s de spotty am unner de saddle, all ready for chuck de bit into him mouf. Ho! ho! dat critter do dance 'bout on de pave stone as ef it wa' mad to 'treak it back to de smoove tuff ob de praira."

"Going out for a ride, Louise?" asked the planter with a shadow upon his brow, which he made but little effort to conceal.

"Yes, papa; I was thinking of it."

"You must not."

"Indeed!"

"I mean, that you must not ride out _alone_. It is not proper."

"Why do you think so, papa? I have often ridden out alone."

"Yes; perhaps too often."

This last remark brought the slightest tinge of colour to the cheeks of the young Creole; though she seemed uncertain what construction she was to put upon it.

Notwithstanding its ambiguity, she did not press for an explanation. On the contrary, she preferred shunning it; as was shown by her reply.

"If you think so, papa, I shall not go out again. Though to be cooped up here, in this dismal dwelling, while you gentlemen are all abroad upon business--is that the life you intend me to lead in Texas?"

"Nothing of the sort, my daughter. I have no objection to your riding out as much as you please; but Henry must be with you, or your cousin Ca.s.sius. I only lay an embargo on your going alone. I have my reasons."

"Reasons! What are they?"

The question came involuntarily to her lips. It had scarce pa.s.sed them, ere she regretted having asked it. By her uneasy air it was evident she had apprehensions as to the answer.

The reply appeared partially to relieve her.

"What other reasons do you want," said the planter, evidently endeavouring to escape from the suspicion of duplicity by the Statement of a convenient fact--"what better, than the contents of this letter from the major? Remember, my child, you are not in Louisiana, where a lady may travel anywhere without fear of either insult or outrage; but in Texas, where she may dread both--where even her life may be in danger. Here there are Indians."

"My excursions don't extend so far from the house, that I need have any fear of Indians. I never go more than five miles at the most."

"Five miles!" exclaimed the ex-officer of volunteers, with a sardonic smile; "you would be as safe at fifty, cousin Loo. You are just as likely to encounter the redskins within a hundred yards of the door, as at the distance of a hundred miles. When they are on the war trail they may be looked for anywhere, and at any time. In my opinion, uncle Woodley is rights you are very foolish to ride out alone."

"Oh! _you_ say so?" sharply retorted the young Creole, turning disdainfully towards her cousin. "And pray, sir, may I ask of what service your company would be to me in the event of my encountering the Comanches, which I don't believe there's the slightest danger of my doing? A pretty figure we'd cut--the pair of us--in the midst of a war-party of painted savages! Ha! ha! The danger would be yours, not mine: since I should certainly ride away, and leave you to your own devices. Danger, indeed, within five miles of the house! If there's a horseman in Texas--savages not excepted--who can catch up with my little Luna in a five mile stretch, he must ride a swift steed; which is more than you do, Mr Cash!"

"Silence, daughter!" commanded Poindexter. "Don't let me hear you talk in that absurd strain. Take no notice of it, nephew. Even if there were no danger from Indians, there are other outlaws in these parts quite as much to be shunned as they. Enough that I forbid you to ride abroad, as you have of late been accustomed to do."

"Be it as you will, papa," rejoined Louise, rising from the breakfast-table, and with an air of resignation preparing to leave the room. "Of course I shall obey you--at the risk of losing my health for want of exercise. Go, Pluto!" she added, addressing herself to the darkey, who still stood grinning in the doorway, "turn Luna loose into the corral--the pastures--anywhere. Let her stray back to her native prairies, if the creature be so inclined; she's no longer needed here."

With this speech, the young lady swept out of the _sala_, leaving the three gentlemen, who still retained their seats by the table, to reflect upon the satire intended to be conveyed by her words.

They were not the last to which she gave utterance in that same series.

As she glided along the corridor leading to her own chamber, others, low murmured, mechanically escaped from her lips. They were in the shape of interrogatories--a string of them self-asked, and only to be answered by conjecture.

"What can papa have heard? Is it but his suspicions? Can any one have told him? Does he knew that we have met?"

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

EL COYOTE AT HOME.

Calhoun took his departure from the breakfast-table, almost as abruptly as his cousin; but, on leaving the _sala_ instead of returning to his own chamber, he sallied forth from the house.

Still suffering from wounds but half healed, he was nevertheless sufficiently convalescent to go abroad--into the garden, to the stables, the corrals--anywhere around the house.

On the present occasion, his excursion was intended to conduct him to a more distant point. As if under the stimulus of what had turned up in the conversation--or perhaps by the contents of the letter that had been read--his feebleness seemed for the time to have forsaken him; and, vigorously plying his crutch, he proceeded up the river in the direction of Fort Inge.

In a barren tract of land, that lay about half way between the hacienda and the Fort--and that did not appear to belong to any one--he arrived at the terminus of his limping expedition. There was a grove of _mezquit_, with, some larger trees shading it; and in the midst of this, a rude hovel of "wattle and dab," known in South-Western Texas as a _jacale_.

It was the domicile of Miguel Diaz, the Mexican mustanger--a lair appropriate to the semi-savage who had earned for himself the distinctive appellation of _El Coyote_ ("Prairie Wolf.")

It was not always that the wolf could be found in his den--for his _jacale_ deserved no better description. It was but his occasional sleeping-place; during those intervals of inactivity when, by the disposal of a drove of captured mustangs, he could afford to stay for a time within the limits of the settlement, indulging in such gross pleasures as its proximity afforded.

Calhoun was fortunate in finding him at home; though not quite so fortunate as to find him in a state of sobriety. He was not exactly intoxicated--having, after a prolonged spell of sleep, partially recovered from this, the habitual condition of his existence.

"_H'la nor_!" he exclaimed in his provincial patois, slurring the salutation, as his visitor darkened the door of the _jacale_. "_P'r Dios_! Who'd have expected to see you? _Sientese_! Be seated. Take a chair. There's one. A chair! Ha! ha! ha!"

The laugh was called up at contemplation of that which he had facetiously termed a chair. It was the skull of a mustang, intended to serve as such; and which, with another similar piece, a rude table of cleft yucca-tree, and a couch of cane reeds, upon which the owner of the _jacale_ was reclining, const.i.tuted the sole furniture of Miguel Diaz's dwelling.

Calhoun, fatigued with his halting promenade, accepted the invitation of his host, and sate down upon the horse-skull.

He did not permit much time to pa.s.s, before entering upon the object of his errand.

"Senor Diaz!" said he, "I have come for--"

"Senor Americano!" exclaimed the half-drunken horse-hunter, cutting short the explanation, "why waste words upon that? _Carrambo_! I know well enough for what you've come. You want me to _wipe out_ that devilish _Irlandes_!"

"Well!"

"Well; I promised you I would do it, for five hundred _pesos_--at the proper time and opportunity. I will. Miguel Diaz never played false to his promise. But the time's not come, _nor capitan_; nor yet the opportunity, _Carajo_! To kill a man outright requires skill. It can't be done--even on the prairies--without danger of detection; and if detected, ha! what chance for me? You forget, _nor capitan_, that I'm a Mexican. If I were of your people, I might slay Don Mauricio; and get clear on the score of its being a quarrel. _Maldita_! With us Mexicans it is different. If we stick our machete into a man so as to let out his life's blood, it is called murder; and you Americanos, with your stupid juries of twelve _honest_ men, would p.r.o.nounce it so: ay, and hang a poor fellow for it. _Chingaro_! I can't risk that. I hate the Irlandes as much as you; but I'm not going to chop off my nose to spite my own face. I must wait for the time, and the chance--_carrai_, the time and the chance."

"Both are come!" exclaimed the tempter, bending earnestly towards the bravo. "You said you could easily do it, if there was any Indian trouble going on?"

"Of course I said so. If there was that--"

"You have not heard the news, then?"

"What news?"

"That the Comanches are starting on the war trail."

"_Carajo_!" exclaimed El Coyote, springing up from his couch of reeds, and exhibiting all the activity of his namesake, when roused by the scent of prey. "_Santissima Virgen_! Do you speak the truth, _nor capitan_?"

"Neither more nor less. The news has just reached the Fort. I have it on the best authority--the officer in command."