Wood Rangers: The Trappers of Sonora

“Now, do you believe, Señor Senator, that Don Estevan de Arechiza has the power to bestow upon others, and without regretting it, the beauty and wealth of the daughter of a Mexican haciendado?”

The Spaniard pronounced these last words with an air of proud tranquillity, and then remained silent, awaiting their effect upon his listener.

Chapter Twenty Two

The New Kingdom

The Mexican senator, with his contracted, or rather egoistic views, was struck dumb by the gigantic and daring design of his companion. He could only exclaim, as he respectfully pressed the hand which the Spaniard held out to him:

“Oh, Don Estevan – if you permit me still to give you this modest title – I regret my suspicions; and for the happiness which you offer me, for the grand perspective which you open before me, I promise you my life, my heart, but – ”

“But! another suspicion?” asked Don Estevan, with a smile.

“No, not a suspicion of you, but a fear of some one else. Have you noticed the young man whom chance brought into our company? I have a secret presentiment that there is something between him and Doña Rosarita. He is young – he is good-looking – and they appear to have known each other a long while.”

“What!” exclaimed Don Estevan, “jealous of this ragged rustic?”

“I avow,” replied the Senator, “that I cannot help it. I noticed two or three times their eyes fixed upon each other with a strange expression.”

“Make yourself easy about that. I know, for certain – and from Don Augustin himself I have had my information – that the heart of his daughter is free. Besides, her vanity alone would hinder her from any fancy for this droll fellow, who appears to have all the pride of a Spanish beggar. He shall be watched; and, should he have the impudence to carry his pretensions so high, it will be an easy matter to send him about his business.”

In pronouncing the last words the countenance of Don Estevan appeared for a moment to wear a troubled expression, and he could not hinder himself from adding:

“I have myself remarked what you say, but let us not dwell upon chimerical fears. Listen to me, Don Vicente, while I explain more categorically the object of which I have been speaking, in order that you may understand fully why I wish to reckon upon your assistance. I have not yet told you – either what resources I have, or the kingdom it is my design to conquer.”

“True enough,” assented Tragaduros, “you have not.”

“The province then which I intend to transform into a kingdom is neither more nor less than this of Sonora.”

“What! our republican state to be changed into a monarchy!” exclaimed the Senator. “Señor Don Estevan, to attempt this will be to play with your life.”

“I know it.”

“But what resources do you count upon?”

“Listen: Ten years ago I was in the Spanish army, and fought against the independence of your country in this very province. I then became acquainted with its resources – its incalculable richness – and when I quitted it to go home to Europe, I had a presentiment that some day I should again return to it – as I have done. Chance at that time made me acquainted with Don Augustin, then occupied in amassing the vast wealth which to-day he so freely spends. I had the fortune to render him a service – to save his life, in fact, and prevent his house from being pillaged by the insurgents, for he did not conceal his sympathy for the Spanish cause. I afterwards kept up with him a correspondence, and learned that Sonora became every day more discontented with the federal government. I then designed my great plan, which was approved of by the prince, and at his desire I came over here. Don Augustin was among the first to whom I opened my purpose. He was flattered by the promises I was able to make in the name of my royal master, and at once placed his fortune at my disposal.

“Nothwithstanding the large pecuniary resources I have been able to dispose of, I am seeking to augment them still farther, and chance has favoured me. While here in my former campaign I made the acquaintance of an odd character – a young fellow who in turns betrayed both royalists and republicans. My relations with him recall a somewhat droll occurrence. I found that he was guiding the regiment I commanded into an ambuscade of the insurgents, and I ordered him to be hung to the first tree we should meet with. Fortunately for him my men translated the order in its most literal sense; and being at the time in the middle of vast savannahs entirely destitute of trees, the execution was held over, as it was an impossibility to perform it. The result was that in the middle of our marchings and counter-marchings the fellow escaped; and it appears did not, afterwards, hold any rancour towards me, since he has again offered his services to me. This fellow to-day goes by the name of Cuchillo. It was he whom I met at the village of Huerfano, where you saw us renew our acquaintance; and at that interview he has made known to me the secret of an immense placer of gold – whither I intend to conduct my expedition. Besides ourselves, Cuchillo alone knows the object of this enterprise,” (the Spaniard did not mention the name of Tiburcio), “which is generally supposed to be merely a new expedition – like many others that have been got up to go gold seeking by chance.

“And now, Señor Senator,” continued Don Estevan, “you need not proceed farther with us. You may remain here, where you will have an easy part to play, in making yourself agreeable to the fair Rosarita, while I am braving the perils of this unknown frontier. As for Cuchillo, if he attempt to play the traitor with me a second time, I shall take care to be a little more prompt in punishing him.

“The product of this expedition,” pursued the Spaniard, – “of which, as leader, I shall be entitled to a fifth part – will be added to the resources I have already. The men who compose it will be easily converted into devoted partisans of our design; and should it happen that the forces I expect from Europe should fail to come to hand in due time, these adventurers will serve a good purpose. But I have no fear for the want of followers. Europe is at the present moment overcrowded with people who lack employment: any enterprise will be welcome to them; and a leader in any part of the world needs only to speak the word for crowds to enrol themselves under his banner.”

As he said this, Don Estevan paced the room, agitated by the grandeur of his thoughts. His dark eyes flashed with excitement, and his soul seemed inspired with a warlike ardour that caused him for a while to forget the presence of the Senator. It was only after some minutes spent in this wild enthusiasm that he remembered an important fact – that in all projects such as he was engaged in, intrigue should be the precursor of open action; and as this was to be the peculiar rôle which the Senator was expected to play, he again turned to address himself to this individual.

“Meanwhile,” said he, “your tactics will be of a more pacific character. I take charge of the open fighting – while you manage the secret diplomacy of the affair. Your fortune, restored to you by this opulent alliance, will enable you to get back the influence you have lost. You will receive with the daughter of Don Augustin, at least two hundred thousand dollars of dowry. Half of this you are to employ in making partisans in the Senate, and in what you are pleased to call your army. This sum you will not lose: it will be repaid to you, and with usurious interest; or if it never should, you still make a good thing of it. The end you will keep in view, is to detach the Senate of Sonora from the Federal alliance. You will find no lack of reasons for this policy. For instance, your State has now scarcely the privileges of a simple territory; your interests differ entirely from those of the central States of the Republic. Every day your laws are becoming more centralised. The President, who deals with your finances, resides at a distance of seven hundred leagues from your capital – it is ridiculous! Besides, the funds of the treasury are misappropriated – the army badly paid, although you have to do your duty in raising the tax that is to pay it – a thousand grievances can be cited. Well, this will enable you to get up a pronunciamento, and before the news of your grito can reach the city of Mexico, and the Executive power there can send a force against you – ay, before the government troops could get half-way to Sonora, more than two-thirds of them would desert. The others would come upon the ground, only to find the insurrectionary party too strong for them, and they themselves would be certain to join us.

“Laws emanating from your own Senate – of which you yourself would have the control and guidance – laws suited to the manners and usages of your State, would soon become firmly established and respected, and Sonora would then be an independent government. This would be the first step and the most difficult. After that the rest would be easy enough; and the gold which I should furnish will bring it about. The Senate and the army would call for a European prince to place himself at their head – one who speaks the same language and professes the same religion as themselves. This prince I have already provided. Now hear me, Don Vicente! as to your own share in this business. The Senator Despilfarro is already a rich man, with a lady for his wife of whom a prince might be proud. He will be made noble – a count – a Grandee of Spain. A lucrative post will attach him to the person of the new king, and nothing is to hinder him from rising to the very summit of his ambition. All this I promise on the part of your future sovereign, King Charles the First.”

With these words the Spaniard finished his harangue. The Mexican Senator, fascinated by the riches and honours thus promised him, grasped the hand of the bold conspirator, at the same time crying out with enthusiasm, “Viva! Viva Carlos el Primero!”

“Good!” rejoined Don Estevan, with a smile. “Don Carlos can count upon one powerful partisan already in Sonora, and there will soon be many. But it is getting late, Don Vicente, and I have yet much business to do before I can go to sleep. You will excuse me, then, if I bid good-night to you.”

After exchanging the usual buenas noches, the Senator returned to his own chamber and couch, to dream of his future riches and grandeur.

Chapter Twenty Three

Quarrelsome Gamesters

In a remote chamber of the hacienda were lodged the four adventurers, Pedro Diaz, Oroche, Cuchillo, and Baraja. These gentlemen were not slow in becoming acquainted with one another, and this acquaintance was soon of the most familiar character. In the middle of the room in which all four were to pass the night, stood a strong oaken table, upon which, in an iron candlestick, was burning a long thin tallow candle, that gave forth a somewhat dim and doubtful light. By this light Cuchillo and Baraja – forgetful of all their promises and vows – were going on with the game, which had been so suddenly interrupted that morning at the village of Huerfano.

Pedro Diaz appeared to be merely an involuntary spectator; while Oroche, seated at one corner of the table, his right leg across his left, his elbow resting on his knee – the favourite attitude of mandolin players – accompanied his own voice as he sang the boleros and fandangos then most in vogue among the inhabitants of the coast region.

Wrapped as usual in his ragged cloak, Oroche appeared to have the true inspiration of an artist: since he could thus elevate himself upon the wings of music, above the vulgar consideration of the toilette, or the cleanliness and comfort of the person. A bottle of mezcal, already half empty, stood upon the table. From this the players occasionally helped themselves – as a finale to the elegant supper they had eaten and to which Cuchillo, Baraja, and Oroche had done ample honour. Notwithstanding the frequent bumpers which Cuchillo had quaffed, he appeared to be in the worst of humour, and a prey to the most violent passions. His shaggy eyebrows, contracted by the play of these passions, added to the evil aspect of his physiognomy, rendering it even more sinister than common. Just then he was observed to cut the cards with particular care. He was not playing with his friend Baraja for the mere sport of the thing; for a moiety of the half ounce he had received from Don Estevan had already gone into Baraja’s pockets, and Cuchillo was in hopes that the attention which he had given to the cutting of the cards might change the luck that had hitherto been running against him. The careful cutting, however, went for nothing; and once more the sum he had staked was swept into the pocket of his adversary. All at once Cuchillo flew off into a passion, scattering his hand of cards over the table.

“Who the devil wants your music?” cried he to Oroche in a furious tone, “and I myself, fool that I am, to play in this fashion – only credit when I win, and cash whenever I lose.”

“You offend me, Señor Cuchillo,” said Baraja, “my word has always passed for its value in cash.”

“Especially when you don’t happen to lose,” sneeringly added Cuchillo.

“That is not a very delicate insinuation,” said Baraja gathering up the cards. “Fye, fye! Señor Cuchillo – to get angry about such a trifle! I myself have lost half a hacienda at play – after being robbed of the other half – and yet I never said a word about it.”

“Didn’t you indeed? what’s that to me? I shall speak as I please, Señor Baraja, and as loudly as I please too,” added he, placing his hand upon the hilt of his knife.

“Yes,” coolly answered Baraja, “I know you use words that cause your friends to drop dead; but these words are harmless at a distance – besides I have got a tongue as sharp as yours, Señor Cuchillo.”

As Baraja said this, he drew his knife from its sheath – in which action he was imitated by his antagonist – and both placed themselves simultaneously in an attitude for fight.

Oroche coolly took up his mandolin – which at the interference of Cuchillo he had laid aside – and, like a bard of ancient times was, preparing to accompany the combat with a chant, when Diaz suddenly interposed between the two champions.

“For shame, gentlemen!” cried he; “what! two men made to be mutual friends, thus to cut each other’s throats for a few paltry dollars! on the eve too of becoming the owners of a hundred times as much! Have I not understood you to say, Señor Cuchillo, that you were to be the guide of our expedition? Your life is no more your own, then; it belongs to us all, and you have no right to risk it. And you, Señor Baraja! you have not the right to attempt the life of our guide. Come! put up your knives, and let there be no more of this matter.”

This speech recalled the two combatants to their senses. Cuchillo remembering the grand interest he had in the success of the expedition, and perceiving that the risk of life was playing a little too high – for a combat of this sort usually ends in the death of one or the other – gave ready ear to the counsel of Diaz. Baraja, on his side, reflected that the dollars he had already pocketed might be better employed than in defraying the expenses of his own funeral; and on this reflection was equally ready to desist from his intention.

“Be it so, then!” cried Cuchillo, speaking first; “I sacrifice my feelings to the common good.”

“And I,” said Baraja, “I am willing to follow so noble an example. I disarm – but – I shall play no more.”

The knives were again stuck into their scabbards, and the two adversaries mutually extended their hands to one another.

At this moment, Diaz, by way of preventing any allusion to the recent quarrel, suddenly turning to Cuchillo, demanded:

“Who, Señor Cuchillo, is this young man whom I saw riding by your side as you came up to the hacienda? Notwithstanding the friendship that appeared to exist between you and him, if I mistake not, I observed you regarding one another with an occasional glance of mistrust – not to say hostility. Was it not so?”

Cuchillo recounted how they had found Tiburcio half dead upon the road, and also the other circumstances, already known to the reader; but the question put by Diaz had brought the red colour into the face of the outlaw, for it recalled to him how his cunning had been outwitted by the young man, and also how he had been made to tremble a moment under Tiburcio’s menace. Writhing under these remembrances, he was now determined to make his vengeance more secure, by enlisting his associates as accomplices of his design.

“It often happens,” said he, in a significant tone, “that one man’s interest must be sacrificed to the common welfare – just as I have now done – does it not?”