Stronghand: or, The Noble Revenge

On the next morning, by the orders of the Marquis, the majordomo selected ten confidential rancheros and peons from those who had sought shelter at the hacienda, and the work commenced at once. The mine had been abandoned exactly in the state in which it was when the body of the miner was found by the Indians; hence the mere sweepings formed a considerable amount, and at the expiration of four or five days the sum collected was sufficient, not only to pay off all the debts, but also to leave at the disposal of the Marquis a sum thrice as large as he owed. With the exception of the legitimate anxiety caused by the apprehension of an Indian attack, joy had returned to the hacienda; the Marquis had begun to smile again, and seemed younger – so great is the privilege of wealth to alter men. The first thought that occurred to the Marquis was to settle with his creditors, and determine his position.

"My dear child," he said one evening to Doña Marianna, at the moment when she was about to retire for the night, "you have not yet given me an answer on the subject of Don Rufino Contrera's request for your hand; but the week has long since passed. Tomorrow, Paredes is going to start to place in his hands certain letters of importance for the settlement of my affairs, and I wish to take advantage of the opportunity. What answer shall I give Don Rufino?"

The young lady blushed; but at length, subduing the trouble that agitated her, she said, with a slight tremour in her voice, —

"Father, I am doubtless highly honoured by this Caballero's demand; but do you not think as I do, that the moment is badly chosen for such a thing, menaced as we incessantly are by terrible dangers?"

"Very good, daughter; I do not at all wish to force your inclinations. I will answer the senator in that sense; but if he come himself to seek his answer, what shall we do?"

"It will be time enough to think of it then," she replied, with a laugh.

"Well, well, that is true, and I was wrong to dwell on the matter so. Good night, my child, and sleep soundly. As for me, I shall probably spend the whole night in my study with your brother, engaged with my accounts."

The young lady withdrew.

"Señor Marquis," said Paredes, suddenly opening the door, "excuse my disturbing you so late; but Mariano, the tigrero, has just arrived at the hacienda with his whole family; he is the bearer of such strange and terrible news, that you will perhaps sooner hear it from his lips than from mine."

"What does he say?" Don Ruiz asked, who entered the room at this moment.

"He says that the Indians have risen, that they have surprised the Mineral of Quitovar, fired the pueblo, and massacred all the inhabitants."

"Oh, that is frightful!" the Marquis exclaimed.

"Our poor cousin!" the young man added.

"That is true; our unhappy cousin commanded at the pueblo. What a horrible disaster! Send the tigrero in to me, Paredes; go and fetch him at once."

Mariano was shown in, and related in their fullest details, though with some exaggeration, the events recorded in our last chapter, which threw his hearers into a profound stupor. Among all the incomprehensible things which daily occur, there is one which will never be explained; it is the rapidity with which all news spreads even for considerable distances. Thus, the capture of Quitovar was unhappily only too true, and the details furnished by Mariano were substantially correct; but how could the tigrero have become acquainted with a fact that had happened scarce three hours previously, and at more than ten leagues from the hacienda? He could not have explained this himself; he had heard it from somebody, but could not remember whom.

This terrible news caused the Marquis to reflect deeply. Now that the roads were probably infested with marauders, and communication intercepted by the Indians, he could not think of sending Paredes to Hermosillo, and the journey had become literally impossible. He must busy himself without delay in organizing the defence of the hacienda, in order vigorously to repulse the attack which would, in all probability, not be long delayed. In spite of the advanced hour, all were at work in an instant at the Toro; the walls were lined with defenders, and reserves established in all parts of the hacienda.

The whole night was spent in preparations. About two hours after sunrise, at the moment when the Marquis, wearied by a long watch, was preparing to take a little repose, the sentries signalled the approach of a body of horsemen, coming at full gallop towards the hacienda. The Marquis went up on the walls, took a telescope, and had a look at them. After a short examination, he perceived that these horsemen were Mexicans, although, owing to the distance, he could not distinguish whether they were soldiers or rancheros. Still, he had all preparations made to give them a hearty reception, if they evinced a desire to halt at the hacienda, as the direction they were following seemed to indicate.

Some time elapsed ere these horsemen, who were climbing the hill, reached the hacienda gates. Then all doubts were removed: they were soldiers, and a few paces ahead of the troop rode Don Rufino Contreras and Colonel Don Marcos de Niza. But both leaders and soldiers were in such disorder, so blackened with gunpowder, so covered with dust and blood, that it was plain they had come from a recent fight, from which they had escaped as fugitives. Men and horses were utterly exhausted, not alone by the extraordinary fatigue they had undergone, but also by the gigantic struggle they had sustained ere they dreamed of flight. It was unnecessary to ask them any questions. The Marquis ordered refreshments to be served them, and beds got ready.

Don Marcos de Niza and the senator had hardly the strength to say a few words explanatory of the wretched condition in which they presented themselves, and yielding to fatigue and want of sleep, they fell down in a state of complete insensibility, from which no attempt was made to rouse them, but they were both carried to bed. The Marquis then withdrew to his room, leaving his son to watch over the safety of the hacienda in his stead, for in all probability it would be speedily invested by the Redskins.

At three in the afternoon a fresh band of horsemen was signalled in the plain. This considerable party was composed entirely of hunters and wood rangers. Don Ruiz gave orders to let them advance, for the arrival of these hunters, nearly one hundred in number, was a piece of good fortune for the hacienda, as the number of its defenders was augmented by so many. Still, when Don Ruiz saw them enter the track, he noticed such a regularity in their movements, that a doubt crossed his mind like a flash of lightning, and a thought of treachery rose to his brain. Hence he rushed to the outer gate of the hacienda to give Paredes orders not to open; but the majordomo checked him at the first word.

"You cannot have looked, niño," he said, "when you order such a thing."

"On the contrary, I do so because I have looked," he replied.

"Then you must have seen badly," the majordomo said; "otherwise you would have perceived that the horseman at their head is one of your most devoted friends."

"Whom do you mean?"

"Who else than Stronghand?"

"Is Stronghand coming with those horsemen?"

"He is at the head of the column, niño."

"Oh, in that case let them enter."

"Ah, I felt certain of it."

The hunters had no necessity even of parleying; they found the hacienda gates wide open, and rode straight in without drawing rein. Don Ruiz recognised Stronghand, who, on his side, rode up to him and held out his hand.

"Grant me one favour, Don Ruiz," he said.

"Speak," the young man answered.

"Two words of conversation in your sister's presence; but wait a moment, another person must accompany me, for reasons you will soon appreciate; this person desires temporarily to maintain the most inviolable incognito. Do you consent?"

Don Ruiz hesitated.

"What do you fear?" the hunter continued; "Do you not put faith in me? Do you believe me capable of abusing your confidence?"

"No; I do not wish even to suppose it, I pledge you my word."

"And I mine, Don Ruiz."

"Act as you think proper."

The hunter gave a signal, and a horseman dismounted and came up to them. A long cloak entirely covered him, and the broad brim of his hat was pulled down over his eyes. He bowed silently to the young man, who, though greatly perplexed by this mystery, made no remark; and after requesting the majordomo to take care of the newcomers, he led his guests to the room in which Doña Marianna was seated, engaged with her tambour-work. The young lady, on hearing the door open, mechanically raised her eyes.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, joyfully, "Stronghand!"

"Myself, señorita," the young man replied, with a respectful bow; "I have come to ask the fulfilment of your promise."

"I shall keep it, no matter what may happen."

"Thanks, señorita."

"Ruiz," she said to her brother, eagerly; "until further orders, my father must not know of the presence of these caballeros here."

"What you ask of me is very difficult, sister; think of the immense responsibility I assume in acting thus."

"I know it, Ruiz; but it must be, my dear brother, for my happiness is at stake," she continued, clasping her hands imploringly; "and besides, what have you to fear? Do you not know this hunter?"

"Yes, I know him; I am even under great obligations to him; but his companion?"

"I answer for him, Ruiz."

"You know, then, who he is?"

"No matter what I know, brother; I only beg you to grant what I ask."

"Well, for your sake I will be silent."

"Oh! Thanks, thanks, brother!"

At this moment a sound of footsteps was heard in the adjoining room.

"What is to be done?" the maiden murmured.

Stronghand laid his finger on his lips, and, leading away his companion – who, through the thick cloak he wore, resembled a phantom rather than a man – disappeared behind a curtain. At the same instant a door opened, and two persons entered. They were Don Marcos and the senator. They had scarce exchanged the first compliments with Don Ruiz and Doña Marianna, when the Marquis entered the room.

"You are up at last, I am happy to see," he said, cheerfully. "¡Viva Dios! You were in a most deplorable state on your arrival; I am glad to see you so fully recovered."

"A thousand thanks, cousin, for your hospitality, of which we stood in great need."

"No more about that; I am the more pleased at the chance which has brought us together, Don Rufino, because I intended to write to you immediately."

"My dear sir," the senator said, with a bow.

"Are you not expecting an answer from me?"

"It is so, but I did not dare to hope."

The Marquis cut him short.

"Let us come to the most important point first," he continued, with a smile. "Don Rufino, you have behaved to me like a real friend. By a miracle – for I can only attribute to a miracle the good fortune that has befallen me – I am in a position to arrange my affairs, and discharge my debt to you, although, be assured, I shall never forget the services you have rendered me, and the obligations I have contracted toward you."

The senator was so surprised, that he turned pale, and took a side-glance at the colonel.

"Obligations far greater than you suppose," the latter said, warmly.

"What do you mean, cousin?" the Marquis asked, in surprise.

"I mean that Don Rufino, unaware of the happy change in your fortunes, and wishing to save you from the frightful position in which you were, had bought up all your liabilities, and so soon as he had all the vouchers in his possession, he hurried with them to me, and implored me to destroy them. Here they are, cousin," he added, as he drew a bundle of papers from his pocket.

The various actors in this singular scene were affected by strange feelings. Don Ruiz and his sister exchanged a look of despair, for they understood that the Marquis would now be unable to refuse his consent to his daughter's marriage.

"Oh!" the Marquis exclaimed, "I cannot accept such an act of generosity."

"From a stranger, certainly not," Don Rufino remarked, in an insinuating voice; "but I flattered myself that I was not such to you, my dear sir."

There was a silence.

"What is going on at this moment is so strange; I feel taken so unawares," the Marquis presently continued; "my thoughts are so confused, that I must beg you, Don Rufino, to defer till tomorrow the remainder of this conversation. By that time I shall have been able to regain my coolness, and then, believe me, I will answer you in the way that I ought to do."

"My dear sir, I understand the delicacy of your remarks, and will wait as long as you think proper," the senator replied, with a bow, and an impassioned glance at Doña Marianna, who was pale and trembling.

"Yes," said the colonel, "let us put off serious matters till tomorrow; the shock we have suffered has been too rough for us to be fit for any discussion just at present."

"What has happened to you? The pagans have not seized the Mineral de Quitovar? Or at least I hope not."

"Yes, they have, cousin; the pueblo has been captured by the Redskins, sacked, and burnt. We had great difficulty in making our escape, and passed through extraordinary dangers ere we were so lucky as to reach your hacienda."

"That is disastrous news, cousin; I had been told of it, but was unwilling to believe it."

"It is unhappily but too true."

"Well, thank Heaven, cousin, you are in safety here. As for you, Don Rufino, I am happy that you escaped from the horrible massacre; you are not a soldier, you are – "

"An assassin!" a sepulchral voice suddenly exclaimed, and a hand was laid heavily on the senator's shoulder.

The company turned with horror. Stronghand's companion had let fall the hat and cloak that disguised him, and was standing, stern and menacing, behind the senator.

"Oh!" the latter exclaimed, as he recoiled with terror, "Rodolfo! Don Rodolfo!"

"Brother, do I see you again after so many years?" the Marquis said, joyfully, as he advanced towards the stranger.

"The great sachem," Doña Marianna murmured.

The sachem thrust back with a gesture of sovereign contempt the startled senator, and walked into the centre of the group.

"Yes, it is I, brother; I, the proscript, the disinherited, who enter the house of my father after an absence of twenty years, in order to save the last representative of my family."

"Oh, brother! Brother!" the Marquis exclaimed, sorrowfully.

"Recover yourself, Hernando! I entertain no feelings of hatred or rancour for you; on the contrary, I have always loved you, and though I was far away from you I have never lost you out of sight. Come to my arms, brother; let us forget the past, only to think of the joy of being reunited."

The Marquis threw himself into his brother's arms; Don Ruiz and Doña Marianna imitated him, and for some minutes there was an uninterrupted interchange of embraces among the members of this family, who had so long been separated.

"It was through me that you received the sum which Paredes was to receive at Hermosillo", Don Rodolfo continued; "to me you also owe the discovery of the gold mine which has saved you. But I have not come here solely to embrace you and yours, brother; I have come to punish a villain! This man," he said, pointing to the senator, who was trembling with rage and terror – "this man was my valet; in order to rob me, he attempted to assassinate me cowardly, treacherously, and behind my back. Such is the man whose dark machinations had succeeded in deceiving you, and to whom you were on the point of giving your daughter: let him contradict me if he dare!"

"Oh!" the senator muttered, with a furious gesture.

"Villain!" the Marquis exclaimed; "Help! Help! seize the monster!"

Several servants rushed into the room, but before they could reach Don Rufino the latter had bounded with a tiger leap upon Don Rodolfo, and buried a dagger in his chest. The sachem fell back with a cry of pain into the arms of his brother and his son. After the crime was committed, the assassin threw down his weapon, and said to the startled spectators, with an air of defiance and satisfied hatred, —

"Now you can do whatever you like to me, for I am avenged."

CHAPTER XL

FUNERAL OF A SACHEM

Two days had elapsed since the atrocious attack made by Don Rufino on Don Rodolfo de Moguer. The Papazos had captured the hacienda without a blow, as the gates were opened to them; for the stupor and terror of the Mexicans at this horrible crime were so great, that they forgot all precautions. But we must do the Redskins the justice of stating that, contrary to their habits, they committed no excesses in the hacienda, either by virtue of superior orders, or in consequence of the sorrow which the wound of their great sachem caused them. Doña Esperanza had arrived with Padre Serapio at the same time as the Indian warriors, and she and Doña Marianna did not leave the wounded man's bed.

Don Hernando was inconsolable, and the colonel could not forgive himself for having supposed for a moment that the senator was an honest man. The whole hacienda was plunged into sorrow, and Don Rodolfo alone watched death approach with a calm brow. Fray Serapio dressed his wound: his night was tolerably quiet, and in the morning the monk entered the wounded man's room. At a sign from Don Rodolfo his wife and niece, who had watched the whole night through by his bedside, withdrew.

"Now, padre," he said, when they left the room, "it is our turn."

And he helped him to remove the bandages. The monk frowned.

"I am condemned, am I not?" said Don Rodolfo, who attentively followed in the monk's face the feelings that agitated him.

"God can perform a miracle," the Franciscan stammered, in a faint voice.

The sachem smiled softly.

"I understand you," he replied; "answer me, therefore, frankly and sincerely. How many hours have I still to live?"

"What good is that, my dear, good master?" the monk murmured.

"Padre Serapio," the chief interrupted him, in a firm voice, "I want to know, in order that I may settle my affairs on earth, before I appear in the presence of God."

"Do you insist on my telling you the truth?"

"Pray do so – the entire truth."

The poor man stifled a sigh, and answered, in a voice broken by emotion – "Unless a miracle occur, you will give back your soul to your Creator at sunset."

"I thank you, my friend," the sachem said, his austere face not displaying the slightest trace of emotion. "Ask my brother to come here, for I have to talk with him. Keep back my wife and niece until I ask for them. Go, father; I will see you again before I die."

The worthy monk withdrew, choked with sobs. The interview of the two brothers was long, for Don Hernando had many faults to ask pardon for at the hands of him whose place he had taken. But Don Rodolfo, far from reproaching him, tried on the contrary to console him, by talking to him in a cheerful voice, and reminding him of the happy days of their childhood. He also thanked his brother warmly for having freed him from the heavy burden of supporting the family honour, and allowing him to live in accordance with his tastes and humour. Many other things were talked of, after which the Marquis retired, with pale brow and eyes swollen with tears, which he tried in vain to repress, that he might not sadden the last moments of the man whose great soul was revealed to him at this supreme moment – of the brother whom he had so cruelly misunderstood, and who had even sacrificed his life to insure his brother's happiness.

Doña Marianna and Doña Esperanza then returned to the dying man's room, followed by Padre Serapio, and a few moments after the Marquis came back, accompanied by Stronghand. The young man, in spite of his Indian education and affected stoicism, knelt down sobbing by his father's side. For some moments father and son talked together in a low voice; no one save God knew what words were uttered by these two men during the solemn interview.

"Come here, niece," Don Rodolfo at length said, addressing Doña Marianna.

The maiden knelt down sobbing by the hunter's side. The aged man looked for a moment tenderly at their two young faces, pale with sorrow, which were piously leaning over him; then making an effort to sit up, and supported on one side by his brother, on the other by Doña Esperanza, he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion – "Niece, answer me as you would answer God; for the dying, you know, no longer belong to this world. Do you love my son?"

"Yes, uncle," the maiden answered through her tears – "yes, I love him."

"And you, Diego, my son, do you love your cousin?"

"Father, I love her," the young man answered, in a voice crushed by emotion.

Don Rodolfo turned to his brother, who understood his glance.

"Bless our children, brother," he said, "according to the wish you expressed to me; Padre Serapio will unite them in your presence."

The wounded man stretched out his trembling hands over the two young people.

"Children," he said, in a powerful voice, though with an accent of ineffable tenderness, "I bless you; be happy."

And, crushed by the efforts he had been forced to make, he fell back in a half-fainting state on his bed. When he regained consciousness, through the attention of Don Esperanza and his niece, he perceived an altar by the side of his bed. On his expressing a desire that the ceremony should take place at once, Padre Serapio, assisted by José Paredes, who was weeping bitterly, read the marriage mass. After the nuptial benediction, Don Rodolfo received the last sacraments, amid the tears and sobs of all present.

"And, now, my friends," he said, "that I have accomplished my duties as a Christian and Spanish gentleman, it is time for me to perform my duties as an Indian chief; so allow the Papazo warriors to enter."

The doors opened, and the warriors entered: they were sad, gloomy, and thoughtful. The sachem had sat up to receive them, supported by his son Stronghand. The warriors silently surrounded the bed on which their venerated chief lay, among them being Sparrowhawk and Peccary. The sachem looked calmly round the circle, and then spoke in a calm and deeply accentuated voice: —

"The Master of Life has suddenly recalled me to Him. I did not fall in action, but beneath the dagger of a cowardly assassin. I regret leaving my nation before I had completed the task which I undertook for their happiness. What I had not time to do, another will doubtless terminate. My brothers must continue the war they have so happily and gloriously commenced; and though I am leaving them, my mind will remain among them. The warriors of my nation must never forget that the Master of Life created them free, and that they must live and die free. The Papazos are brave men, invincible warriors, and slavery is not made for them. On the point of appearing before the Master of Life, I implore the chiefs not to forget that the white persons who surround me form part of my family. If my brothers retain after my death any recollection of the good which I have continually sought to do them, they will be kind to the palefaces whom I love. I have only one more word to add: I desire to give back my soul to the Master of Life beneath the buffalo hide cabin of the warriors of my nation, and in the midst of my nation. I desire also that all the rites customary at the death of the chiefs should be performed for me."

A tremor of joy ran along the ranks of the redskin warriors on hearing the last words; for they had feared in their hearts that the sachem would wish to be interred after the fashion of the white men. The Peccary then replied, in the name of all —

"My father's wishes are orders for his children; never, so long as the powerful confederation of the Papazos exists, shall an insult be offered to the palefaces whom he loves. Our father can die in peace; all his wishes will be religiously carried out by his children."

A flash of joy sparkled in the sachem's eye at this promise, which he knew would be strictly kept. The Peccary continued —

"The Papazos chiefs are sad; their hearts are swollen by the thought of losing their father: they fear lest his death may be the cause of great disorder in their confederation, and injure the success of the war which had scarce begun."