The Girl of the Golden West (6 page)

But as time went by and still Ramerrez kept aloof, Nina
Micheltoreña's excitement began to increase immeasureably. To such
a woman the outlaw's neglect could mean but one thing—another
woman. And, finally, unable to control herself any longer, she made
her way to where the woman with whom Ramerrez had been conversing
was standing alone.

"What has the Señor been saying to you?" she demanded, jealousy
and ungovernable passion blazing forth from her eyes.

"Nothing of interest to you," replied the other with a shrug of
her shoulders.

"It's a lie!" burst from Nina's lips. "I heard him making love
to you! I was standing near and heard every tone, every inflection
of his voice! I saw how he looked at you!" And so crazed was she by
jealousy that her face became distorted and almost ugly, if such a
thing were possible, and her great eyes filled with hatred.

The other woman laughed scornfully.

"Make your man stay away from me then—if you can," she
retorted.

At that the infuriated Nina drew a knife and cried:

"Swear to me that you'll not see him to-night, or—"

The sentence was never finished. Quick as lightning Ramerrez
stepped in and caught Nina's up-raised arm. For one instant her
eyes flashed fire at him; another, and submissive to his will, she
slipped the knife somewhere in the folds of her dress and the
attention that she had succeeded in attracting was diverted
elsewhere. Those who had rushed up expecting a tragedy returned,
once more, to their dancing.

"I have been looking for you, Nina," he said, taking her to one
side. "I want to speak with you."

Nina laughed airily, but only another woman would have been able
to detect the danger lurking in that laugh.

"Have you just come in?" she inquired casually. "It is generally
not difficult to find me when there is dancing." And then with a
significant smile: "But perhaps there were so many men about me
that I was completely hidden from the view of the Señor."

Ramerrez bowed politely his belief in the truth of her words;
then he said somewhat seriously:

"I see a vacant table over in the corner where we can talk
without danger of being overheard. Come!" He led the way, the woman
following him, to a rough table of pine at the farther end of the
room where, immediately, a bottle and two glasses were placed
before them. When they had pledged each other, Ramerrez went on to
say, in a low voice, that he had made the appointment in order to
deliver to her her share for the information that led to his
successful holdup of the stage at a place known as "The Forks," a
few miles back; and taking from his pocket a sack of gold he placed
it on the table before her.

There was a silence in which Nina made no movement to pick up
the gold; whereupon, Ramerrez repeated a little harshly:

"Your share."

Slowly the woman rose, picking up the sack as she did so, and
with a request that he await her, she made her way over to the bar
where she handed it to the Mexican in charge with a few words of
instruction. In another moment she was again seated at the table
with him.

"Why did you send for me to meet you here?" she now asked. "Why
did you not come to my room—surely you knew that there was danger
here?"

Carelessly, Ramerrez let his eyes wander about the room; no one
was paying the slightest attention to them and, apparently, there
being nothing to fear, he answered:

"From whom?"

For a brief space of time the woman looked at him as if she
would ferret out his innermost thoughts; at length, she said with a
shrug of the shoulders:

"Few here are to be thoroughly trusted. The woman you were
with—she knows you?"

"I never met her but once before," was his laconic
rejoinder.

Nina eyed him suspiciously; at last she was satisfied that he
spoke the truth, but there was still that cold, abstracted manner
of his to be explained. However, cleverly taking her cue from him
she inquired in business-like tones:

"And how about The Polka Saloon—the raid on Cloudy Mountain
Camp?"

A shade of annoyance crossed Ramerrez' face.

"I have decided to give that up—at least for a time."

Again Nina regarded him curiously; when she spoke there was a
suspicious gleam in her eyes, though she said lightly:

"Perhaps you're right—it will not be an easy job."

"Far from it," quickly agreed the man. "But the real reason is,
that I have planned to go below for a while."

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"You are going away then?"

"Yes."

"And what about me? Do I go with you?"

Ramerrez laughed uneasily.

"It is impossible. The fact is, it is best that this should be
our last meeting." And seeing the change that came over her face he
went on in more conciliatory tones: "Now, Nina, be reasonable. It
is time that we understood each other. This interview must be
final."

"And you came here to tell me this?" blazed the woman, scowling
darkly upon him. And for the moment she looked all that she was
reputed to be—a dangerous woman!

Receiving no answer, she spoke again.

"But you said that you would love me always?"

The man flushed.

"Did I say that once? What a memory you have!"

"And you never meant it?"

"I suppose so—at the time."

"Then you don't love me any more?"

Ramerrez made no answer.

For some moments Nina sat perfectly still. Her mind was busy
trying to determine upon the best course to pursue. At length she
decided to make one more attempt to see whether he was really in
earnest. And if not…

"But to-night," she hazarded, leaning far over the table and
putting her face close to his, her eyes the while flooded with
voluptuousness, "you will come with me to my room?"

Ramerrez shook his head.

"No, Nina, all that is over."

The woman bit her lips with vexation.

"Are you made of stone? What is the matter with you to-night? Is
there anything wrong with my beauty? Have you seen anyone handsomer
than I am?"

"No…"

"Then why not come? You don't hate?"

"I don't hate you in the least, but I won't go to your
room."

"So!"

There was a world of meaning in that one word. For a while she
seemed to be reflecting; suddenly with great earnestness she
said:

"Once for all, Ramerrez, listen to me. Rather than give you up
to any other woman I will give you up to death. Now do you still
refuse me?"

"Yes…" answered Ramerrez not unkindly and wholly unmoved by her
threat. "We've been good pals, Nina, but it's best for both that we
should part."

In the silence that ensued the woman did some hard thinking.
That a man could ever tire of her without some other woman coming
into his life never once entered into her mind. Something told her,
nevertheless, that the woman with whom he had been conversing was
not the woman that she sought; and at a loss to discover the person
to whom he had transferred his affections, her mind reverted to his
avowed purpose of withdrawing from the proposed Cloudy Mountain
expedition. The more Nina reflected on that subject the more
convinced she became that, for some reason or other, Ramerrez had
been deceiving her. It was made all the more clear to her when she
recalled that when Ramerrez' messenger had brought his master's
message that she was to meet him, she had asked where the band's
next rendezvous was to be, and that he, knowing full well that his
countrywoman had ever been cognizant of his master's plans, had
freely given the desired information. Like a flash it came to her
now that no such meeting-place would have been selected for any
undertaking other than a descent upon Cloudy Mountain Camp. Nor was
her intuition or reasoning at fault: Ramerrez had not given up his
intention of getting the miners' gold that he knew from her to be
packed away somewhere in The Polka Saloon; but what she did not
suspect, despite his peculiar behaviour, was that he had taken
advantage of the proximity of the two camps to sever his relation,
business and otherwise, with her. And yet, did he but know it, she
was destined to play no small part in his life for the next few
weeks!

Nina Micheltoreña had now decided upon her future course of
action: She would let him think that his desire to break off all
relations with her would not be opposed. Ever a keen judge of men
and their ways, she was well aware that any effort to reclaim him
to-night would meet with disaster. And so when Ramerrez, surprised
at her long silence, looked up, he was met with a smiling face and
the words:

"So be it, Ramerrez. But if anything happens, remember you have
only yourself to blame."

Ramerrez was astounded at her cool dismissal of the subject. To
judge by the expression on his face he had indeed obtained his
release far easier than he had deemed it possible. As a matter of
fact, her indifference so piqued him that before he was conscious
of his words he had asked somewhat lamely:

"You wish me well? We part as friends?"

Nina regarded him with well-simulated surprise, and replied:

"Why, of course—the best of friends. Good
luck, 
amigo
!" And with that she rose and left
him.

And so it was that later that evening after assuring herself
that neither Ramerrez nor any of his band remained in the
dance-hall, Nina, her face set and pale, exchanged a few whispered
words with that same big man towards whom, earlier in the evening,
she had shown such animosity.

The effect of these words was magical; the man could not
suppress a grunt of intense satisfaction.

"She says I'm to meet her to-morrow night at the Palmetto
Restaurant," said Ashby to himself after the woman had lost herself
in a crowd of her own countrymen. "She will tell where I can put my
hands on this Ramerrez. Bah! It's too good to be true.
Nevertheless, I'll be on hand, my lady, for if anyone knows of this
fellow's movements I'll wager you do."

At that moment Ashby, the Wells Fargo Agent, was nearer than
ever before to the most brilliant capture of all his career.

Late the following afternoon, some five miles from the Mexican
settlement, on a small tableland high above a black ravine which
was thickly timbered with the giant trees of the Sierras, Ramerrez'
band was awaiting the coming of the 
Maestro
. It was
not to be a long wait and they stood around smoking and talking in
low tones. Suddenly, the sound of horses climbing was heard, and
soon a horseman came in sight whose appearance had the effect of
throwing them instantly into a state of excitement, one and all
drawing their guns and making a dash for their horses, which were
tied to trees. A moment later, however, another horseman appeared,
and laughing boisterously at themselves they slid their guns back
into their belts and retied their horses, for the man whom they
recognised so quickly, the individual who saved the situation, as
it were, was none other than Jose Castro, an
ex-
padrona
 of the bull-fights and the second in
command to Ramerrez. He was a wiry, hard-faced and shifty-eyed
Mexican, but was as thoroughly devoted to Ramerrez as he had been
to the young leader's father. On the other hand, the man who had
caused them to fear that a stranger had surprised them, and that
they had been trapped, was Ramerrez or Johnson—the name that he had
assumed for the dangerous work he was about to engage in—and they
had failed to know him, dressed as he was in the very latest
fashion prevailing among the Americans in Sacramento in '49. Nor
was it to be wondered at, for on his head was a soft, brown
hat—large, but not nearly the proportions of a sombrero; a plain,
rough tweed coat and a waistcoat of a darker tan, which showed a
blue flannel shirt beneath it; and his legs were encased in boots
topped by dark brown leggings. In a word, his get-up resembled
closely the type of American referred to disdainfully by the miners
of that time as a Sacramento guy; whereas, the night before he had
taken great pains to attire himself as gaudily as any of the
Mexicans at the dance, and he had worn a short black jacket of a
velvety material that was not unlike corduroy and covered with
braid; his breeches were of the same stuff; above his boots were
leather gaiters; and around his waist was a red sash.

It was now close to four o'clock in the afternoon and the band
began their preparations for the raid. To the rear of the small,
open space where they had been waiting was a fairly good-sized
cave, in the opening of which they deposited various articles
unnecessary for the expedition. It took only a short time to do
this, and within half an hour from the time that their leader had
so startled them by his strange appearance, the outlaws were ready
to take the trail for Cloudy Mountain. One comprehensive glance the
pseudo-American—and he certainly looked the part—shot at his
picturesque, if rough-looking followers, not a few of whom showed
red bandannas under their sombreros or around their necks—and then
with a satisfied expression on his face—for he had a leader's pride
in his men—he gave the signal and led the way along and down the
steep trail from the tableland. And as from time to time he glanced
back over his shoulders to where the men were coming along in
single file, he could see that in every eye was a glint of
exultation at the prospect of booty.

After they had gone about three miles they crossed the black
ravine, and from there they began to ascend. Up and up they went,
the path very hard on the horses, until finally they came to the
top of a pass where it had been arranged that the band should await
further instructions, none going on further save the two leaders.
Here, saddle-girths and guns were inspected, the last orders given,
and with a wave of the hand in response to the muttered wishes of
good luck, Johnson,—for as such he will be known from this time
on,—followed by Castro, made his way through the forest towards
Cloudy Mountain.