Wood Rangers: The Trappers of Sonora

“Gentlemen!” said Don Augustin, when the festive scene was near its end, “before retiring I have the honour to invite you all to a hunt of the wild horse on my estate – which is to come off early in the morning.”

Each of the guests accepted the invitation, with that abandon natural to people who have made a good supper.

With regard to Tiburcio, jealousy was devouring him. He scarce ate of the rich viands placed before him. He kept his eyes constantly fixed upon Don Estevan, who, during the supper appeared to pay marked attentions to Rosarita, and for every one of which Tiburcio thanked him with a look of hatred. As soon as the supper was ended, the young man silently left the room and repaired to the chamber that had been assigned to him for the night.

At an early hour – for such was the custom of the hacienda – all the guests had retired to their sleeping apartments – even the domestics were no longer to be seen in the great hall; and a profound silence reigned throughout the vast building, as if all the world had gone to rest. But all the world was not yet asleep.

Chapter Twenty

The Assignation

Alone in his chamber, Tiburcio awaited impatiently the hour named by Rosarita. From his window he cast a distracted glance over the plain that stretched away from the walls of the hacienda. The moon was up in the heavens, and the road leading to Tubac appeared under her light shining like a vast ribbon extended through the middle of the forest. The forest itself appeared asleep; not even a breath stirred the leaves of the trees, and the only sounds he heard were those caused by the half-wild herds that wandered through its glades. Now and then the bellowing of a bull denoted the uneasiness of the animal – perhaps from the presence of those terrible night robbers, the puma and jaguar. There was one other sound that reached the ear of Tiburcio, but this appeared to proceed from some part of the hacienda itself. It was the tinkling of a mandolin. The hour was appropriate to amorous reflections, as well as to thoughts of a graver character, and both presented themselves at that moment to the spirit of Tiburcio. Like all those whose life has been passed amid the depths of the desert, there was at the bottom of his heart a certain poetic temperament, at the same time that his soul exhibited that energetic vigour required by the dangers which surround such a life of solitude. His present position then was perfectly appropriate to this double character. His love was unreciprocated – the coolness of Rosarita, almost assured him of the painful fact – and some secret presentiment told him that he was encompassed by enemies.

While thus sadly reflecting on his situation, an object came under his eyes that attracted his attention. It was the gleam of a fire, which appeared to be kindled under cover of the forest at no great distance from the hacienda. The light was partly eclipsed by that of the moon, but still it could be traced by the greater redness of its rays, as they trembled mysteriously on the silver foliage of the trees. It denoted the halting-place of some traveller.

“So near the hacienda!” muttered Tiburcio, in entering upon a new series of reflections. “What can it mean? Why have these travellers not come here to demand hospitality? They have certainly some reason for keeping themselves at a distance? They may be unknown friends to me for heaven often sends such to those who stand in need of them. Cuchillo, Don Estevan, and this pompous Senator, all appear to be my enemies and all are secure under this roof! why might not these travellers, who appear to shun it for that very reason prove friends to me?”

The hour of rendezvous had at length arrived. Tiburcio took up his serapé and his knife – the last, the only weapon he had – and prepared to go out from his chamber without making any noise. A fearful conflict of emotions was passing in his bosom; for he knew that in a few minutes would be decided the question of his happiness or misery. Before leaving his chamber, he looked once more through the window in the direction of the forest fire. It was still gleaming in the same place.

While the lover, with cautious tread and wildly beating heart, was silently traversing the long gallery, and passing round to that side upon which opened the window of Rosarita, other scenes were passing elsewhere that must now be detailed.

Since his arrival at the hacienda, Don Estevan, in presence of the other guests, had scarce found an opportunity to speak with the haciendado on business that concerned both of them. Only for one moment had they been alone; and then the Spaniard had briefly related to Don Augustin the contract he had entered into with Cuchillo. When Don Estevan mentioned the secret of the Golden Valley, the haciendado appeared to make a slight gesture, as of disappointment, but their short dialogue ended abruptly by a promise to return to the subject at a later hour of the night.

Don Estevan awaited until all the other guests had retired to their chambers. Then drawing the Senator into the bay of one of the large windows of the sala, he requested him to look up at the stars that were shining in all their brilliance in the blue sky above.

“See!” said he, pointing to a particular constellation. “That is the Chariot that has risen above the eastern horizon. Do you perceive a single star farther down, which scarce shines through the vapour? That is the emblem of your star, which at present pale, to-morrow may be in the ascendant, and gleam more brightly than any of those that compose the brilliant cortege of the Chariot.”

“What mean you, Señor Arechiza?”

“I shall tell you presently. Perhaps the hour is nearer than you think when you may be the future master of this hacienda, by a marriage with the charming daughter of its present owner, who is to be its heiress. Come presently to my apartment. The conversation which I am about to have with Don Augustin must be decisive, and I shall let you know the result.”

With these words the Spaniard and the Senator parted – the heart of the latter beating at the same time with hope and fear.

Don Estevan now awaited the haciendado, who the moment after came up to him.

The proprietor of the Hacienda del Venado, as has already been seen, had given to the Spaniard more than an ordinary welcome. His politeness to him when in presence of witnesses, was even less respectful than when the two were alone. On his side Don Estevan appeared to accept the homage of the other as if it were due to him. There was in his polite condescension towards the rich proprietor, and in the deference of the latter towards him, something resembling the relation that might be supposed to exist between a powerful sovereign and one of his noble vassals.

It was not until after reiterated requests – orders they might almost be called – that Don Augustin consented to be seated in the presence of the other – whereas the Spaniard had flung himself into a fauteuil on the moment of entering the chamber, and with the most perfect abandon.

The haciendado waited silently for Don Estevan to speak.

“Well, what do you think of your future son-in-law?” inquired the Spaniard. “I presume you never saw him before?”

“Never,” answered Don Augustin. “But if he was even less favoured by nature than he is, that would make no obstacle to our projects.”

“I know him; he only needs to be known to prove that he has in him the stuff of a gentleman, besides being a senator of the illustrious congress of Arispe.”

The Spaniard pronounced these words with a slight smile of contempt.

“But, señor,” continued he, “that is not the difficulty, the important matter is whether your daughter will find him to her liking.”

“My daughter will act according to my wish,” said the haciendado.

“But supposing her heart is not free?”

“The heart of Rosarita is free, Señor Don Estevan; how could it be otherwise – she whose life has been spent in the midst of these deserts?”

“And what about this ragged young fellow, this Tiburcio Arellanos, whom you appear to know? he is in love with your daughter?”

“I have been made aware of it this very morning.”

“If it is only a few hours, then, since you have been apprised of the secret of his passion, surely that of your daughter cannot have to this time escaped you?”

“The truth is,” answered Don Augustin, smiling, “that I understand better how to follow the traces of an Indian, and read in the countenance of a savage his most secret thoughts, than to look into the heart of a young girl. But I repeat it, I have reason to believe that my daughter’s heart is free of any such affection. I do not apprehend any difficulty in this regard. I dread an obstacle of a more important character – I mean an obstacle to the expedition you are about to conduct into the desert.”

Here the haciendado communicated to Don Estevan the particulars which the monk had gathered at the death-bed of the widow of Arellanos, and which seemed to produce a strong impression on the Spaniard; but although the conversation continued for some time longer, I shall not here detail what was said, but return to the Senator, who with anxious heart was now awaiting Don Estevan in the apartment which had been assigned to the latter.

Chapter Twenty One

The Duke de Armada

The chamber set apart for the Señor Don Estevan de Arechiza was undoubtedly the best in the house; and, notwithstanding the little progress that luxury has made in the state of Sonora, was furnished with considerable elegance.

In this chamber Don Estevan found the Senator pacing to and fro, with an air that bespoke him a prey to the most vivid emotions.

“Well, Señor Don Vicente!” began Arechiza, who appeared to make light of the impatience of his protégé, “what do you think of the daughter of our host? have I exaggerated her beauty?”

“Oh, my friend!” exclaimed the Senator, with all that vivacity of pantomimic gesture so characteristic of the South, “the reality far exceeds the imagination. She is an angel! Even in our country, famous for its beautiful women, Doña Rosarita is certainly loveliest of all.”

“And richest too,” added the Spaniard, with a smile.

“Who would have expected to find, in the middle of the desert, such an accomplished beauty? such youthful freshness? Such charms were created to shine in afar higher sphere?”

“At the court of a king, for instance,” carelessly rejoined Arechiza.

“Oh! Señor Don Estevan!” again exclaimed the Senator in an earnest voice, “do not keep me in suspense; the divine, the rich Doña Rosarita – is it possible I am to have her for my wife?”

“One word from me, one promise from you, and the thing is done. I have her father’s word. Within fifteen days you may be the husband of his daughter.”

“Agreeable as easy.”

“A little later you will be rich.”

“No harm in that.”

“Later still you will be a grand proprietor.”

“Oh! it is magnificent. Carramba! Señor de Arechiza, it is a perfect cataract of felicities to be lavished upon my head, it is a dream! it is a dream!” shouted the Senator, as he strode to and fro across the floor.