The Black Rider (6 page)

He answered neither word nor look but still stared past her with a sort of bland indifference.

“But I have forgotten the most important thing of all!” she exclaimed, “and the surest proof that you are a genius, Taki. You were able to master the flute in a single year…master it to a perfect smoothness. In a single year…that difficult instrument. In a single year, Taki, to become a master flute player, a dangerous and polished fencer, a dancer of grace at least; in a single year you have equipped yourself also with the very French of Paris. What additional study was there required to add Spanish to that list, for I see that you speak it with great precision. And,” she added with a sudden change of voice, and speaking in excellent English: “What other languages are you a master of beside your own Navajo?”

“Of none,
señorita,”
he answered, and then caught himself and bit his lip.

“You answer me in Spanish,” she said, “but you understand the question I put in English.”

“When I was a boy” said Taki, “I knew a trader who was from the colony of Virginia. I learned English from him.”

She merely smiled, her eyes bright and hard as she examined him.

“Admirable, Taki,” she said. “In all things you are excellent, in all things! Perhaps when you were a boy you also knew a missionary who taught you French, a generous
soldier who instructed you in fencing, a kind Spaniard who schooled you in Spanish grammar, and some dapper dancing master who went among the Navajos to teach them ballroom steps in their spare moments! So you had received the basis of your knowledge and the year in Paris was merely to add the perfect finish to what you already knew!”

He did not reply, standing tall and stiff before her. There was no trace of emotion in him, except that the muscles of his folded arms swelled and rippled.

“That is all,” she said. “You may go now!”

He vanished instantly.

“Lucia, Lucia!” said her aunt. “I would never have dreamed of it. But you seemed to have proved that he has told us a great series of lies! Of course in one year he never could have accomplished what he claims.”

Lucia was walking up and down the room, a faint smile on her lips. She did not answer at once.

“But the first thing is to tell
Señor
Torreño!” said Anna d’Arquista.

“Do you know what the
señor
would do?” asked the girl.

“Punish him, of course.”

“Punish him by stripping him naked, giving him a start of a hundred paces, and then loosing the hounds after him! I heard him tell how he occasionally disciplines unfaithful servants.”

“He is a stern man, indeed!” said the elderly lady.

“If he were not so rich, he would not be called merely stern!”

“Lucia, what are you saying?”

“What I think.”

“Oh, my dear, how dreadful!”

“To say what I think?”

“No, but I mean…”

“That I should not think? Yes, that is right. I should close my eyes. I should learn how to smile blindly. That would be the best, of course. It is sinful to see that he who is to be my father-in-law is brutal, savage, conceited, narrow.”

“Lucia!”

“And it is a greater sin to guess that the gallant Don Carlos is a mere fool!”

“Ah, Lucia, God forgive me for listening to you! Child, child, what are you saying?”

“Nothing, nothing, of course! Nothing that should be remembered. I am preparing myself to be blind and deaf the rest of my life.” She added sharply: “Because of this marriage, how many new estates will my father be able to buy, Aunt Anna? Can you guess that?”

Aunt Anna turned gray with horror and with dread. And her niece turned the subject.

“No,” she said, “I shall give poor Taki a better start than
Señor
Torreño would give him. By this time the bay stallion has whipped him away toward the mountains faster than any wolf could run! Well, I trust that he rides well and fast and far. He is a strange man, Aunt Anna. Did you see the shadow over those black eyes of his when I showed him that I understood? Not a muscle of his face changed…except once!”

“Ah, Lucia, he may do some terrible thing if you do not warn the
Señor
Torreño. I fear that this Taki has come with us for some purpose that is not good…now that he is gone, I begin to be terribly afraid of him. When he was here, well, it was as though the skin of the mountain lion had come to life and the great beast lay crouched in the chapel, watching us with burning eyes. Chills and shudders went through me while Taki was in the room, here!”

“And through me,” said the girl; but she smiled.

“What will you do now?”

“Wait another five minutes.”

“And then? Tell the
señor?”

Lucia, instead of answering, dropped into a chair and began to study the changing light through the windows. The sky beyond was turning to a deeper blue as the sunset time came nearer. The minutes passed with Aunt Anna turning in her mind all that her niece had actually said and all that she had inferred. She dared not carry what she guessed to an actual conclusion. All that she knew was that her mind was full of confusion and dread of what would come of this unhappy marriage.

Lucia rose presently.

“It is time,” she said. “He should be two leagues away by this time. If he is not

There was a little bronze bell standing on a polished table in the corner of the room. She struck it with the padded mallet which lay beside it, and one of her two attendants appeared at once.

“Find Taki,” she commanded.

In two minutes the messenger appeared again.

“He is here,” she said. “Shall I bring him in?”

“He is here?” breathed the girl.

“In the patio.”

She slipped to the window and looked out. There stood Taki, the ruddy light from the west in his face, his expression as woodenly impassive as ever.

“Tell him,” she said, “to wait there.”

The servant bowed and left.

“Oh, Lucia?” breathed the other.

“I have told him that I know he is a liar,” said Lucia. “And since he dares to stay…what Torreño does to him is on his own head. But what can his purpose be in remaining? What is in his barbarous mind, Aunt Anna?”

“God alone can read their thoughts…these solemn Indians!” said Anna d’Arquista. “Perhaps he intends to murder us all while we’re asleep and carry…our scalps…ah! You must send to
Señor
Torreño at once!”

“Yet,” murmured the girl, “what a dull place this would be with the wild man gone! What a dull place. Hush! What is that?”

A thin thread of whistling, carrying a weird strain of music, floated into the room from the court. Anna d’Arquista hurried to the window and saw Taki, the Indian, sitting on a low stone bench with the flute at his lips.

“Do you hear? Do you hear?” asked Lucia in great excitement.

“It is beautifully played…yes!”

“But the words…the words!”

“What are they?”

“It is an old Scotch ballad. Listen!”

She began to sing:

“Ye highlands and ye lowlands,
Oh, where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl of Murray
And they laid him on the green.
“Now wae be to ye, Huntly,
And wharefore did ye sae?
I bade ye bring him wi’you
And forbade ye him to slay!”

There the music of the flute stopped.

“It is his message! It is his message!” breathed the girl.

“Lucia, what under heaven do you mean? What message in the playing of a flute?”

“But the words of the old song, Aunt Anna! Don’t you see? He puts himself in my hands!”

“Lucia, go instantly to
Senor
Torreno!” “Not for a million pesos!” “Then I.…”

“Aunt Anna, if you betray him, I shall never forgive you. Never!”

I
n the meantime, as the dusk settled, there began through the house a great bustle. Servants ran here and there. Beyond the court, men were seen putting up tents. Everywhere were voices of command, and scurrying feet. It would have been a simple thing for Lucia to call her maids and ask her question of them. But she preferred to go to the window and speak through it to the Indian. He rose and came before her instantly. “Someone has come, Taki. Run and learn who it is.” “It is the
Señor
Hernandez Guadalmo. He has come to take shelter here with my master.”

“How could you know all of this, Taki, without leaving this little court?”

“No man other than
Señor
Guadalmo would travel with so great a train. Besides, I have heard them speak his name as they ran about.”

“He is some great man, then, traveling with such a train?”

“He is a friend of the governor. He has monopolies. He is very rich.”

“Does he not carry his own tents then?” “Those are his tents they are putting up yonder. But
Señor
Guadalmo prefers to sleep behind strong walls,
señorita!”

“Why is that? Is he afraid of the night air?”

Taki smiled a little, a very little—more with his eyes than with his lips.

“The night air is sometimes very bad. Men go to sleep strong and very well. They are dead when they waken.”

“Taki! Is there some frightful plague here in California?”

“Yes,
señorita!”

“What are the symptoms of it?”

“The instant they are seen, the man is already dead.”

“You speak of the men. Does it never touch the women?”

“Rarely,
señorita!”

“This is very strange. What are the symptoms, then?”

“They are different,” said Taki. “Sometimes the man who was strong and well goes to sleep and is found in the morning with a great cut across his throat. Sometimes there is no outward mark, but his body is swollen

“Do you mean throat-cutting and poison, Taki?”

“But the symptom that is usually found,” said Taki, without answering her less obliquely, “is the handle of a knife standing over the man’s breast, with the blade fixed in his heart.”

She frowned at him seriously. “It is a murderous country, then? Why?”

“The law is far away.”

“And this Guadalmo is very much afraid?”

“Very,
señorita!”

“Is he a coward?”

“He is a famous fighter…a very brave man. In Spain his name was famous.”

“Guadalmo, the duelist! Is it he?”

“It is,
señorital”

“I have heard that he feared nothing…not even God, or the devil.”

“There was a time when he did not. He would ride alone a thousand miles.”

“What changed him?”

“There is one man who follows him. Five times he has tried to get the life of
Señor
Guadalmo. And five times he has nearly succeeded. Therefore,
Señor
Guadalmo has surrounded himself with great warriors. They would sooner get out their swords than take off their hats. They had rather fight than eat. These men protect him.”

“Who is this man who follows Guadalmo?”

“No one can tell. It is a mystery. Some people say that it is the devil himself who has come for
Señor
Guadalmo, because no man would dare to face him.”

“That is nonsense!”

“There are others who believe that it is merely the brother of a man
Señor
Guadalmo killed.”

“Tell me of that.”

“A hundred long marches to the East,
señorita
, there are many cities.”

“The English colonies. I know.”

“A trader came from them. He was called John Gidden. He had a ship which he commanded, and he traded here for hides.
Señor
Guadalmo and he dined together one day, and quarreled over some little thing. But when the wine had died in them,
Señor
Guadalmo sent for Gidden and told him he was sorry and asked him to come to his house.
Señor
Gidden came. In the night they quarreled again. They fought, and with swords.
Señor
Gidden was killed.”

“If it was fair fight, Taki….”

“It was fair fight,
señorita.
This
Señor
Gidden was one who lived by the sea. He had strong hands and a fearless heart. But the only weapons he knew were a cutlass and a pistol. A rapier was strange to him. However, he
fought
Señor
Guadalmo, the great duelist, with a rapier. Therefore, being a fool, he was killed.”

“That has an ugly sound, Taki.”

“If he had not been a fool, he would have fought with a cutlass or with a saber.”

“Perhaps he was not allowed?”

Taki made a gesture.

“As for that, I cannot tell. But he was killed; and afterward a letter came to
Señor
Guadalmo from the brother of this
Señor
Gidden, saying that he was coming to find Guadalmo and to kill him. And, after that, five times a masked man has set on
Señor
Guadalmo, as I have said, and five times
Señor
Guadalmo’s life has been saved by a miracle. Therefore, he loves strong walls around him when he sleeps at night, and he has come this evening to beg a shelter from
Señor
Torreño.”

“This is a strange story, Taki. However, I wish also to tell you that it has given me a thought. You are a fighting man, Taki.”

“I,
señorita!
Among the Navajos I was a chief and a warrior. But the poor Indian is a child among the white men. His hand may be strong, but his wits are weak.”

She chuckled. “However,” she said, “since there is this plague in the land, I feel that I need a guard and, while you are with me, you must be my protector, Taki.”

“The
señorita
has commanded,” said Taki, his eye as blank as ever. “I pray to the Great Spirit that my hand may be strong for her.”

“You speak sadly, Taki.”

“Ah,” said Taki, “how can the guard of fighting men help us when there are other dangers which fighting men cannot face?”

“That sounds like a riddle. What dangers, Taki?”

“I have spoken too much,” said Taki. “I am not the guard who can help the
señorita!”

“What guard should I have, then?”

“A father confessor,” said the Indian calmly.

“A priest! And what would he do for me?”

“He would listen to the troubles which are in your heart,
señorita!”