Desert Gold

  Next day he believed he was well enough to leave his room; but Mrs. Belding would not permit him to do so.  She was kind, soft-handed, motherly, and she was always coming in to minister to his comfort. This attention was sincere, not in the least forced; yet Gale felt that the friendliness so manifest in the others of the household did not extend to her.  He was conscious of something that a little thought persuaded him was antagonism.  It surprised and hurt him.  He had never been much of a success with girls and young married women, but their mothers and old people had generally been fond of him.  Still, though Mrs. Belding's hair was snow-white, she did not impress him as being old.  He reflected that there might come a time when it would be desirable, far beyond any ground of every-day friendly kindliness, to have Mrs. Belding be well disposed toward him.  So he thought about her, and pondered how to make her like him.  It did not take very long for Dick to discover that he liked her.  Her face, except when she smiled, was thoughtful and sad.  It was a face to make one serious.  Like a haunting shadow, like a phantom of happier years, the sweetness of Nell's face was there, and infinitely more of beauty than had been transmitted to the daughter.  Dick believed Mrs. Belding's friendship and motherly love were worth striving to win, entirely aside from any more selfish motive.  He decided both would be hard to get.  Often he felt her deep, penetrating gaze upon him; and, though this in no wise embarrassed him–for he had no shameful secrets of past or present–it showed him how useless it would be to try to conceal anything from her.  Naturally, on first impulse, he wanted to hide his interest in the daughter; but he resolved to be absolutely frank and true, and through that win or lose.  Moreover, if Mrs. Belding asked him any questions about his home, his family, his connections, he would not avoid direct and truthful answers.

  Toward evening Gale heard the tramp of horses and Belding's hearty voice.  Presently the rancher strode in upon Gale, shaking the gray dust from his broad shoulders and waving a letter.

  "Hello, Dick!  Good news and bad!" he said, putting the letter in Dick's hand.  "Had no trouble finding your friend Thorne.  Looked like he'd been drunk for a week!  Say, he nearly threw a fit.  I never saw a fellow so wild with joy.  He made sure you and Mercedes were lost in the desert.  He wrote two letters which I brought. Don't mistake me, boy, it was some fun with Mercedes just now. I teased her, wouldn't give her the letter.  You ought to have seen her eyes.  If ever you see a black-and-white desert hawk swoop down upon a quail, then you'll know how Mercedes pounced upon her letter...Well, Casita is one hell of a place these days.  I tried to get your baggage, and I think I made a mistake.  We're going to see travel toward Forlorn River.  The federal garrison got reinforcements from somewhere, and is holding out.  There's been fighting for three days.  The rebels have a string of flat railroad cars, all iron, and they ran this up within range of the barricades.  They've got some machine guns, and they're going to lick the federals sure.  There are dead soldiers in the ditches, Mexican non-combatants lying dead in the streets–and buzzards everywhere! It's reported that Campo, the rebel leader, is on the way up from Sinaloa, and Huerta, a federal general, is coming to relieve the garrison. I don't take much stock in reports.  But there's hell in Casita, all right."

  "Do you think we'll have trouble out here?" asked Dick, excitedly.

  "Sure.  Some kind of trouble sooner or later," replied Belding, gloomily.  "Why, you can stand on my ranch and step over into Mexico.  Laddy says we'll lose horses and other stock in night raids. Jim Lash doesn't look for any worse.  But Jim isn't as well acquainted with Greasers as I am.  Anyway, my boy, as soon as you can hold a bridle and a gun you'll be on the job, don't mistake me."

  "With Laddy and Jim?" asked Dick, trying to be cool.

  "Sure.  With them and me, and by yourself."

  Dick drew a deep breath, and even after Belding had departed he forgot for a moment about the letter in his hand.  Then he unfolded the paper and read:

  Dear Dick,–You've more than saved my life.  To the end of my days you'll be the one man to whom I owe everything.  Words fail to express my feelings.

  This must be a brief note.  Belding is waiting, and I used up most of the time writing to Mercedes.  I like Belding.  He was not unknown to me, though I never met or saw him before.  You'll be interested to learn that he's the unadulterated article, the real Western goods.  I've heard of some of his stunts, and they made my hair curl.  Dick, your luck is staggering.  The way Belding spoke of you was great.  But you deserve it, old man.