Chapter XXII: The Fiesta in Piñon

When Johnny Wells went pounding out of Indian Wells, following the fleeing Sands, he had no idea where the chase might lead. They whirled out around a cluster of adobe buildings, away from the lights, and swept into the open country, with only the stars for illumination.

Johnny had a good horse, but he realised that Sands had taken Smoky’s sorrel, a running fool. They struck a dusty road, which helped Johnny in following Sands. Of course he had no idea when he might run into Sands in the dark, but he was willing to take chances.

He had a hunch that they were heading south, and were already far across the border, but that meant little to Johnny Wells. He wanted Cal Sands, and he was going to get Cal Sands, if such a thing was possible. There was no sound except the _sug, sug, sug_ of his horse’s hoofs in the dirt. Sands might turn off the road any time and double back on him, but Johnny rode high in his stirrups, running through the dust from Sands’s horse.

Cal Sands was not sure that any one was pursuing him, nor did he care. He realised that everything had broken against him, and that he would be a hunted man in Arizona or any other State. His only move was to head down through Mexico.

But first he was going to Piñon. Half crazed from the way Fate had brought his future tumbling about his ears, he was going to prevent Mendez from marrying Juana Diaz. His future, beyond that one thing, was rather vague. Perhaps he might take Juana south with him. Why not? The only thing left for him was freedom in Mexico, and why not have a pleasant freedom?

He realised whose horse he had taken, and derived pleasure from it. He owed Smoky something for those remarks in the Casa del Diaz, and this sorrel with the speed of the wind evened things up a little. Then he saw the lights of Piñon a mile ahead.

Reckless as he was, he realised that Mendez was not misnamed the Wolf. There would be guards, but Sands reasoned that the guards would only be at Mendez’s house. Sands had been there many times. He knew Piñon as well as he knew Keno City; so he swung off the road, circled the town and came in behind an old tumble-down wall not over a hundred yards from the walls of Mendez’s home.

The darkness favoured Sands, and he invariably dressed in black. Crouching low, he worked his way in close to the wall. To his right was the big arched entrance to the patio, and Sands felt sure there were guards at that gate. He pulled off his boots and left them beside the wall, gripping his heavy six-shooter in his right hand as he hunched over and went softly toward the gate.

There was a guard, a keen-eared Yaqui, just inside the gate, but just now he was rolling a cigarette and failed to hear anything. Sands flattened himself against the wide gate-post. He heard the Yaqui scratch a match to light his cigarette.

Slowly Sands straightened up, a pebble in his hand, and with a flip of his wrist sent it rolling along the opposite side of the gate. The sound was very slight, but the Yaqui heard it. The muzzle of a rifle came past Sands, and the Yaqui leaned out, only to go down in a heap from the slash of a heavy revolver barrel across his head.

But unfortunately the rifle must have been cocked and the Yaqui’s finger on the trigger, because as the Indian went down the rifle was discharged. Sands vaulted the Indian and made a dash for the front door.

Johnny Wells didn’t know where to go, so he rode straight through Piñon, and was on the street, just beyond Mendez’s place, when he saw the flash and heard the report of the rifle. Swinging his horse in against an adobe wall, he dismounted quickly and came running softly.

As he reached the gate, almost falling over the prostrate Indian, he saw the flash of another gun at the front door of the house and heard the door crash shut. Johnny went running around through the patio, searching for another way into the house.

But there was no door. There was light through a barred window--the window of the room where the women had been kept prisoners. Johnny ran past, but here the wall angled to the right, ending against the wall of the building. Quickly he climbed to the top of the wall, where he could see over the old tile roof.

The main building was of two storeys, and he could see over the roofs to a window, faintly lighted. If he could crawl over the old roof and reach the window, he might get into the house; so he removed his boots, balanced on the top of the wall and made a leap which landed him on the roof.

The wedding ceremony was over. The hideous old priest gave them his blessing, and stepped back, a wide smile showing his toothless gums. Juana and Hal looked at each other foolishly, and Mendez laughed mockingly. “Married,” he chuckled. “And now I kees the bride, me myself personally.”

And before Juana could stop him he had grasped her in his arms and kissed her with his swollen lips. She staggered back, holding a hand over her mouth. Hal threw both arms around her, fearing what else Mendez might do, but at that moment they heard the dull report of a rifle shot.

Mendez jerked back, whirled toward the door. The Gonzales brothers had emptied their quart bottles, and although they jerked to attention, it was evident that they were too muddled to do anything. Miguel dropped his rifle and had difficulty in recovering it.

Another shot, but this time it sounded within the house. Mendez drew one of his two guns and sprang toward the door. Fumblingly Ricardo jerked it open, and a man came into them like a tiger, knocking Ricardo back into Mendez, who dropped his gun and almost fell over backward. Miguel threw up his rifle, but a well-placed kick sent him writhing to the floor.

It was Cal Sands, a heavy revolver in his right hand, blood running down from a cut over one eye. He glanced over the stunned group as he leaned back against the wall for a moment, panting, mouth wide open. Then he relieved Mendez of his guns, kicked the rifle aside, and shut the door.

“Get up, you dog!” he snarled at Mendez, who got slowly to his feet.

“Thank God!” exclaimed Mrs. Austin. “Cal Sands.”

Sands looked at her narrowly. “God ain’t got a thing to do with this,” he panted. “Stay where yuh are--all of yuh. What’s been goin’ on, Mendez?”

“Juana and Hal were just married,” said Mrs. Austin, not waiting for Mendez to answer.

“Juana and Hal?” Sands blinked at this information. His eyes strayed to the gagged figures on the two chairs, and began to understand.

“So Mendez engineered this, eh? Hal, you poor damn fool, that wife of yours is your half-sister.”

“What do you say?” choked Hal. “My half-sister.”

“It’s true, you poor fool. Take the gag off Frank Austin and he’ll tell you it’s true. He married Rosita years ago, and Juana is his daughter. He deserted her to marry you, Mrs. Austin. That’s why he didn’t want you and Rosita to meet. Ask him. Frank knocked down Mendez, and Mendez wanted revenge; so he framed this marriage. Don’t yuh see, he’s gagged both of the parties that knew this. They’d have to watch this marriage. You poor fools, Mendez would have kept you here until after the honeymoon.”

“My God, that can’t be true,” said Mrs. Austin. “Sands, you are lying.”

“I’m not lyin’. Take the gags out of their mouths and they’ll tell you it’s the truth.”

So great was Sands’s triumph that he grew careless, gun hanging at his side. Mendez, staking everything on one quick move, grasped a long-necked bottle from the table, and flung it square against the side of Sands’s head. Sands went down like a pole-axed steer, and a moment later Mendez was again in command of the situation.

Strangely enough, no one seemed to care who was in command. Juana had recovered her voice, and now she said hoarsely:

“Porfiro Mendez, is it true--what Sands said?”

Mendez was the wolf now. Cheated of his prey, he was ready to rend anybody.

“Every word true!” he roared. “_Madre de Dios_, I’ll keel those guards for let heem in. Every word true. But you think I’m not get even yet? _Padre!_ Pardon, I forgot our _padre_ ’ave no ear. Now we ’ave another wedding.”

His bloodshot eyes stared at Juana, who shrank back from him.

“I no wan’ you,” he growled. “You marry your own brother. I marry Señorita Austin. Ha, ha, ha! That ees good. ’Er father’s firs’ wife was _Mejicano_; your firs’ ’usband be _Mejicano_.”

“No, no!” pleaded Betty. “You can’t marry me. Don’t!”

Mendez turned to the blank-faced priest and made a sort of hand talk, to which the _padre_ nodded violently and drew out his little book, taking his former position. Mendez stepped over in front of him, but Betty ran back, throwing herself across the bed. Mendez laughed and turned to Ricardo, owl-eyed from too much _tequila_.

“Bring her to me,” he ordered.

Ricardo leaned his rifle against the wall and started across the room, very unsteady on his feet, but Hal stepped in front of him.

“Stan’ back,” warned Mendez, covering Hal with his six-shooter. “I jus’ as soon keel you as not.”

Ricardo stopped, looking inquiringly at Mendez.

“Bring her to me, Ricardo,” ordered Mendez in Spanish.

“Is there no way to stop this?” Mrs. Austin moaned weakly.

As though the Deity had answered that question the roof crashed in over Mendez’s head, bringing a shower of dust and plaster, a shower of heavy, broken tile, followed by a heavy body, which seemed to hurtle down, crushing Mendez to the floor and knocking the old priest sidewise under the table.

The heavy body was a man, who seemed to rise up out of the débris, staggered aside, grasping the table for support, but still holding a gun in his right hand. His face was bleeding, where it was not white from the plaster dust, but there was a grim smile on his lips. “They didn’t make these old tile roofs very strong,” he said.

“Johnny Wells!” gasped Hal.

“Hyah, Hal,” grinned Johnny. “What’s the good word?”

“You!” Betty came forward wonderingly. “You came through the roof!”

“Yes’m. Yuh see, I was tryin’ to git to a window up there, but them darned old tiles was kinda crinkly, and I was scared they’d hear me. Goin’ mighty slow, I’ll tell yuh. Wasn’t takin’ no chances on speed. And all to once I reckon I hit a rotten spot.”

Johnny looked around the room. There was Miguel Gonzales over by the door, still doubled up from the effect of Sands’s kick; Sands himself, sprawled face down; Porfiro Mendez, twisted grotesquely under the broken tile and plaster; the bald-headed old priest on hands and knees, peering from under the table, and Ricardo Gonzales, owl-eyed, hands in the air.

“It shore looks to me as though I’d ruined somebody’s party,” said Johnny calmly. He looked at the hole in the roof and chuckled softly.

Somewhere a door banged, a voice spoke loudly. Johnny whirled toward the door, and his gun swung menacingly.

“Been plenty hell raised here all right,” said a voice.

“Goober!” yelled Johnny, and around the edge of the doorway appeared the skinny old face of Goober Glendon. Behind him was Smoky Hill, blinking over the top of Goober’s old sombrero.

“Hyah, Johnny,” said Goober, and they walked carefully in, guns ready.

“We’re kinda late,” said Smoky apologetically. “Yuh see, we had to iron them two jiggers, and then--well, if there ain’t Mr. Sands! Sleepin’ through all this excitement. Imagine that, will yuh?”

“Mendez knocked him down with a bottle,” said Hal.

“And Mr. Mendez, all piled up nicely,” grinned Smoky. “And there’s Dicky Gonzales, givin’ an imitation of a paper-hanger--and no paper. Well, well!”

“The picture is perfect,” agreed Goober dryly. “There’s a dead Injun at the main gate, a couple cripples scattered through the house--and this.”

Goober walked over and looked at Rosita Diaz and Frank Austin.

“We better cut them gags loose,” said Johnny. “I don’t _sabe_ the reason, but they shore look uncomfortable.”

Smoky examined Sands quickly.

“Colder ’n a codfish,” he said.

“Dead?” asked Hal.

“That’s my impression. Saves the expense of a hangin’.”

Goober and Johnny cut away the ropes and gags. Neither Rosita nor Austin was able to talk. Johnny gave Austin a drink of _tequila_, and it gagged him, but the liquor seemed to take the cramp out of his jaw muscles. Juana was crying over her mother, who was trying to tell her that everything was all right.

“Let’s have a little explanation of some kind,” said Hal. “What is it all about, Smoky? Why does the death of Sands save a hanging?”

“That dirty murderer,” grunted the deputy. “He murdered Terrill and Nolan. Him and Elkinson and Britton was in cahoots with Terrill and his outfit, aided by Nolan, to steal from the Star A. Nolan, as sheriff, inspected and passed on the shipments. When yore dad gave Sands a half interest, he naturally wanted to stop the rustlin’, but the others refused. Don’t yuh git the idea?”

Frank Austin was on his feet, rubbing his lips and jaw. There was nothing wrong with his hearing.

“Is that true?” he whispered.

“The sheriff is takin’ care of Elkinson and Britton,” said Goober. “We got ’em cold.”

“What a fool I’ve been,” muttered Austin.

“Prob’ly the worst I ever seen,” agreed Goober dryly. “You can be more kinds of a damn fool in a short length of time than any man I’ve ever seen, Austin. How’s Mendez, Johnny?”

Johnny Wells shook his head as he dusted the plaster off his knees.

“I don’t reckon there’s any _alcalde_ in Piñon to-night, Goober. He must have been kinda brittle, because there wasn’t more than forty pounds of them old tiles, and I only weigh about a hundred and seventy pounds.”

“Is he--is he dead?” whispered Rosita.

“I’m sorry, but he is--yes, ma’am,” replied Johnny.

Mrs. Austin had recovered some of her natural poise, and now she came to her husband; but he did not look up at her.

“Frank, is all this true?” she asked. “Did Sands tell the truth?”

“Yes, he told the truth, Laura. I--I believe I’d have sold my soul to the devil to prevent you from finding it out. It’s true. Rosita Diaz is my wife. There has never been a divorce that I know about. There was a baby coming when I ran away. Why go any further? I guess I’m as bad as Sands. I don’t ask anybody to forgive me. But thank God things turned out as they did. Mendez knew. He tried to blackmail me, and I struck him. This was his revenge--to force Rosita and me to watch that wedding.”

Mrs. Austin shook her head sadly. “Frank, you could have told me. What misery it would have saved.”

“I know. I can see that now. And like a fool I played into Sands’s hands, at the sacrifice of my own son. Well, I’ve made a mess of things, Laura.”

“It’s all right, dad,” said Hal bravely. “You--you just made a mistake.”

“Hal, do you forgive me?”

“We’ve been enemies long enough, dad. We didn’t know--Juana and me. As old Omaha says, it’s hell, but directions says take it.”

Rosita had been saying nothing, her arms around Juana. Mrs. Austin went to her and held out her hand.

“Rosita, you have been done a terrible wrong,” she said. “We will see what can be done to right it.”

Rosita Diaz lifted her head and smiled through her tears. “It is good for Rosita,” she said huskily. “After all these years. But don’t you see, it is all a mistake. That man,” pointing at the crumpled body of Mendez, “is my husband. I am not Rosita--I am Juanita.”

“My God, what are you saying?” croaked Frank Austin.

“It is true. We looked alike. I ran away from Mendez and took refuge with Rosita. He swore to kill me. Rosita’s baby was born, and she and the baby both died.

“No one knew it except her old Indian servant. I--I--God forgive me, I took her name and her home, and buried your wife, Mr. Austin, under the name of Juanita Mendez. For fifty _pesos_ the old nurse bought the baby of a Spanish woman who was dying--that was little Juana. We kept up the deception. No one knew. It was a long time before Mendez came, and he believed Juanita dead. That is the truth, as God is my judge.”

The woman bowed her head and sobbed on Juana’s shoulder, while the rest of them stood around, looking blankly at each other. Hal was the first to recover, and he took Juana in his arms, holding her tightly.

“That marriage stands!” he shouted. “Juana, we’re married!”

“Yuh better not yell,” warned Johnny. “Some of that old tile might jar loose on yore head.”

“He wouldn’t feel it,” grinned Goober, and slapped Frank Austin on the shoulder. “Go hug yore wife, you old sinner. It’s all over, except cleaning up. Give the kids yore blessin’, and let’s go back home.”

“I--I’ll do that gladly, Goober. If I ever try to prevent anythin’ from now on, I hope somebody will shoot me.”

“They will, Frank, and don’tcha forget it.”

Goober turned and looked at Johnny, who was possibly supposed to be shaking hands with Betty; but they were holding instead of shaking, and Betty was thanking him with her eyes for what he had done.

“You must come out to the ranch,” she said. “Dad needs a new foreman now, and you will like the place. Mother and I are going to stay a while. Oh, we may stay months.”

“Shore,” agreed Johnny heartily. “Make yore home down here with us.”

“I guess I’ve got a foreman, Goober,” said Frank.

“Looks thataway,” Goober admitted.

“I’m giving the Star A to Hal, and he needs a foreman.”

“Acts like he needed a keeper, too.”

“He’s got one. I wish you’d tell me how you discovered all these things about Sands and the other two men.”

“Guessed at ’em, mostly. I didn’t have a danged bit of actual proof.”

“What I want to know is, where didja git that letter yuh sent in to Sands, and what was in it,” said Smoky. “My golly, it shore started things.”

Goober took the letter from his pocket and handed it to Smoky, who read it aloud:

SANDS:

You try to double-cross us and we’ll get you cold. We don’t care
about your partnership with Austin. You killed Terrill, because
he refused to bust up the gang, but you’ll either stick with the
rest of us or take what’s coming to you. Two of your men robbed
them Austin women and never split with us. Destroy this letter,
but don’t forget what I’ve said.

NOLAN.

“Well, no wonder you had the deadwood on ’em!” snorted Smoky. “This letter would hang the whole works. But where in the devil did you get it?”

“I wrote it a few days ago,” said Goober simply. He reached in his pocket and took out the diamond ring, which he handed to Austin.

“I found that in Tony Riecho’s pocket; I reckon you’ll find the rest of the plunder on Britton. Him and Elkinson got shot up a little, but they confessed.”

Austin shook his head slowly. “Glendon, you’re a wonder.”

“Well,” drawled Goober, “I would not go that far--but I’m young yet.”

They found the horses to transport everybody back to Indian Wells. Sands’s was the only body they took back. They ignored the Gonzales brothers and the old priest, leaving the three of them together. Miguel was still suffering from the kick Sands gave him. As the last hoofbeats died in the distance, Ricardo staggered over to the table, knocked the neck off a bottle, and poured the contents into a huge cut-glass goblet.

“’Ave dreenk, Mike,” he said.

“Dreenk?” groaned Miguel. “My stummick ees outside in. _Madre de Dios_, w’at a night! Moorder, wedding, and a keek in the belly. Geeve dreenk to the _padre_.”

But the padre was sneaking out, and Ricardo spat contemptuously as he shifted his glance to the crumpled figure of Mendez, the candlelight flickering on the Lobo’s soiled finery. He lifted the sparkling goblet high.

“W’ere you go, I do not theenk they need _alcalde_,” he said softly; “but I weesh you luck, Onkle.”

“Good,” said Miguel heartily. “Porfiro was great man, but he bite off more than I can chew. Maybe we can be hones’ men now, Ricardo.”

“At leas’ we can be crooked for ourself,” replied Ricardo.

Up at the little depot of Indian Wells, a sleepy-eyed agent yawned as Goober Glendon wrote out a telegram to the secretary of the Cattlemen’s Association, which read:

CLOSED RUSTLING DEAL TO-NIGHT AND HAVE COMPLETE CONFESSION
STOP EXCUSE ME FROM TEACHING DETECTING TO ANY MORE PROMISING
YOUNG MEN STOP JOHNNY WELLS WAS SHOT THROUGH THE HEART WITH
AN ARROW AND THE SAD REMAINS WILL BE USED AS FOREMAN OF THE
STAR A OUTFIT.
GOOBER GLENDON.

“That sounds funny,” said the operator.

“It ain’t,” replied Goober dryly, “but you can laugh if yuh feel like it.”

And he went away in the darkness, rattling his old spurs down the street.

THE END

[Transcriber’s Note: The cover image was produced by the transcriber. The illustration was generated to represent a scene from the story. The image is released into the public domain.]