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Delafield Affair

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<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> <h3>THE WORD UNSPOKEN</h3> The sun was high in the brilliant blue heavens and blazing hot upon the gray-green plain when the company came together in the grove the next morning to listen to speeches. One or another well-known resident of the Territory was called forth, with applause and cheers, to mount an improvised rostrum, where he complimented the ladies, chaffed the men, told funny stories, submitted to guying from the audience and repaid it in kind, until he was able to turn a joke upon some one else so deftly that he could retreat under cover of the hand-clapping and laughter and the calls for the other man to step up and defend himself. At dinner they spent a jovial hour. Half a dozen cowboys carried the big platters of roasted meat to the tables, where they were flanked by smoking dishes of frijoles and chile con carne, platters of bread, and piles of [Pg 300]roasted potatoes and hard-boiled eggs. Pails of lemonade and bottles of beer, just brought from the ice house, were scattered down the tables, and steaming pots of coffee and tea passed from hand to hand. Everybody was in the highest spirits; every jest or bit of fun was caught, bandied back and forth, and passed on with new trimmings. As they gathered around the tables, Conrad asked Lucy Bancroft to save a seat for him beside her. She smiled at him without replying; but when Homer presently came and asked for the vacant place she gave him a gracious welcome. Conrad, much occupied with his duties as host, soon saw that his brother was at her side, paying her devoted attention, and that apparently she was quite happy. “It’s all right,” he thought. “He’ll have time to look out for her better than I could, anyway; she seems to be having a good time, and that’s the main thing.” Yet he was conscious of keen disappointment; he had seen so little of her—much less, he was suddenly aware, than he wished. But he had been very busy. Notwithstanding the planning beforehand, something new had been constantly cropping up and demanding his attention. But Homer [Pg 301]had been taking good care of her, and she seemed to be enjoying everything. That evening, after the fireworks, he could surely let things go for a little while, and ask her to walk with him in the moonlight to the top of the hill. At that moment he was passing Mrs. Turner Castleton. With an inviting smile she made room for him beside her. He sat down, poured her a glass of lemonade, and then, noticing that Emerson Mead and his wife were not comfortably seated, went off to look after them. Mrs. Ned, who had seen her sister-in-law’s man&oelig;uvre, asked him to go into the house with her to see how the lemons were holding out. When they came out she protested that she was starving, that he must be too, and couldn’t they sit right down and have something to eat? The seats she chose were at some distance from Mrs. Turner, though directly in range of her eye. They chanced also to be in plain sight from where Lucy was sitting. She, seeing them dining together on such friendly, jolly terms, was more charming than ever to Homer Conrad. Her pique made the task she had set herself no easier; but she held to her determination, telling herself that, even if Curtis did not [Pg 302]show her some attention that afternoon, she would try to see him in the evening. For they were to go home in the morning. After dinner the games began. Cowboys of the ranch and others from small neighboring ranches gave exhibitions of quick roping and throwing and of broncho busting. Curtis Conrad and Emerson Mead had a riding and shooting match. José Gonzalez, dressed in Mexican holiday attire of straw sombrero, braided jacket, and close-fitting trousers, showed his skill as an expert lasso thrower. He made a picturesque figure as he stood in the roadway, striking graceful attitudes and making his rope leap, run, circle, and swirl about him as if it were alive. The visitors crowded to the edge of the grove, watching and admiring. “He’s a sure peach at the fancy racket,” said Dan Tillinghurst, “but I reckon Emerson Mead can flirt gravel faster than he can when it comes to the real practical business. Say, Emerson,” he called, “can’t you give us an imitation of the way you slipped out of Antone Colorow’s rope and broke his wrists before he had time to draw his noose? I reckon that was a show sure worth seeing.” Those who knew the story added their [Pg 303]voices, “Yes, Mead; show us how you did it!” Others who had never heard of the incident wanted to know about it; and soon everybody was talking about how a cowboy once tried to rope Emerson Mead. Mrs. Turner Castleton was standing beside Curtis. “Really, Mr. Conrad,” she said, “is it true that they ever rope men? And why do the men allow it?” “Sometimes, Mrs. Castleton, when the men who are roped can’t help it.” With a sudden smile he threw back his head and his eyes flashed. “We’ll show you the game,” he went on; “José shall try to rope me, and I’ll see if I can keep out of his way. Come, José, get your horse, and bring mine, and then do your best.” The Mexican stooped to coil his rope. As he rose his glance darted across the faces of the crowd under the trees until it met the eyes of Alexander Bancroft, standing beside Dellmey Baxter, at the end of the long group. Baxter saw the two pairs of eyes meet and hold each other for an instant, and his curiosity was aroused. But he seemed to notice nothing, and saying, “Come, Aleck, let’s go and see what they’re up to now,” he led the way to the upper end of the grove. [Pg 304] The two horsemen cantered out into the open and began their man&oelig;uvres. The people crowded along at the edge of the shade, and some of the men stepped out into the sunlight to get a better view. Emerson Mead was much interested and walked out farther than the rest. The snakey rings and lengths of the Mexican’s rope were whistling through the air, and the two men were wheeling, stopping, rushing forward, jumping sidewise, in graceful evolutions. The noose circled through the space between them, poised over Conrad’s head, and darted downward like some voracious bird of prey. An exclamation ran through the intent crowd, “He’s got him! He’s got him this time!” But the superintendent jerked his horse to its hind legs, swung it to one side, galloped a little way, and came back laughing. “Good! that was first rate!” Emerson Mead called out. José wound his rope for another trial, and cantered leisurely back and forth, making sudden feints of throwing and watching his employer’s movements of evasion. Suddenly he wheeled, charged, and threw the loop from a distance of only a few paces. He had calculated on the other’s spurring forward to escape; instead Conrad brought his horse to [Pg 305]a standstill, and the noose fell over its ears. A cheer went up from the grove, and Curtis turned to wave his broad-brimmed hat. In the one swift glance he was aware of Lucy, watching so eagerly that she had stepped forward into the sunshine, and of his brother, raising a sunshade over her head. Gonzalez also waved his sombrero to the company, and coiled his rope anew. It darted out like a serpent’s tongue, and this time it caught Conrad unawares; he had thought his antagonist would not throw so soon and for the instant was off his guard. The noose fell over his head just as his horse was at mid-bound. He heard it whistle as it dropped past his ears, and as quick as a flash jerked his pony backward to a sudden stop. Apparently José had expected the horse to leap forward, for, as he felt the slacking of the rope, there was a dextrous turn of his wrist, and a dig of his spur that sent his pony dancing to one side. The noose tightened around Curtis’s neck. Instinctively he clutched it, and his fingers, caught against his windpipe, ground into his own throat. “The greaser did that on purpose!” exclaimed Emerson Mead in a hard, swift undertone, as his hand gripped the revolver at his [Pg 306]waistband. But Gonzalez was already beside Conrad, and lifting the noose from his neck. The American choked and gasped for breath once or twice. “You—you caught me square that time, José,” he said. “We are even now, señor,” replied the Mexican; “you gave me my life once, and now I give you yours. It would have been only a second more; and it was plainly an accident; nobody would have known. I have paid my debt.” The people were cheering. Both men faced toward the grove and waved their hats. “You damned impudent coyote!” said Curtis through his teeth. Then he grinned, and added, “But I like your nerve, though.” At the grove side the manager threw his bridle to the Mexican, but turned impulsively and called, “Here, José, wait a minute. I want you to show these people how you can throw the knife.” A stride or two took him to José’s side. “And I’ll be your target, damn you!” he added in an undertone. He walked back where Lucy, Miss Dent, and his brother were standing, humming a stave or two from a comic opera under his breath. Homer noticed that his face was rather pale [Pg 307]and that his eyes were blazing, but thought it due to his annoyance at having been roped. Gonzalez came back from the corral, carefully testing with his finger the edge and point of his knife. Conrad, his head held high, a smile on his face and exhilaration in his manner, was telling the company to stand a little to one side, to make sure they were out of the way of the knife. As Gonzalez came up, he stepped in front of the nearest tree, with the Mexican facing him ten or twelve paces distant. Judge Banks called to him to watch out for the knife himself, and he turned a smiling face for an instant as he answered gayly, “Oh, I’m all right!” In the same tone he called, “Start her up, José! And remember, you’re to do your level best.” José’s teeth shone in a gleaming smile as he replied significantly, “I shall, Don Curtis!” He took an alert, graceful posture, one foot set back and head thrust slightly forward. The muscles of his arm were still relaxed as his knife slid along his wrist and nestled into place. Conrad drew himself up tensely and his eyes narrowed as he fixed them upon the Mexican’s. For an instant they eyed each [Pg 308]other; then, like a flash, José’s arm swung back. Not until that moment did any member of the company understand that Curtis was deliberately making himself a target; even then many did not realize the significance of the game with death he had set himself to play. Ned Castleton’s face went white, and his voice died in his throat as he tried to call to José to stop. Alexander Bancroft stared with devouring eyes, his breath coming hard. The overmastering desire for freedom and safety was upon him, and he could not take his gaze from the Mexican’s poised figure. Louise Dent, beside him, drew one gasping breath and covered her face with her hands. Afterward she knew that she had not done this so much to shut from her eyes the next moment’s expected sight as to hide from her soul’s vision the glimpse she had caught of the desire springing to life in her own heart. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i308.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width-obs="322" height-obs="500" alt="“Like a flash José’s arm swung back, ... and Curtis sprang lightly aside as the knife struck deep into the tree”" title="" /> “Like a flash José’s arm swung back, ... and Curtis sprang lightly aside as the knife struck deep into the tree”</div> Homer Conrad, sitting beside Lucy, his attention fixed upon some small damage to her fan which he was trying to repair, did not see what was going on until a sudden stiffening of her attitude and a sharp, indrawn breath made him look up. She was leaning forward, with face white and eyes staring and [Pg 309]hands clenched against her breast. He followed her gaze and saw the knife flash from José’s hand. His heart went sick and he sat powerless to move as his eyes marked the long blade, dark against the sunshine, but with little sparkles on its edge, through what seemed an interminable flight. Then Curtis sprang lightly aside as the knife struck deep into the tree at the level of his throat, pulled the weapon out, waved it at Gonzalez, and called out triumphantly, “Try again, José; and be quicker next time!” Ned Castleton sprang forward, with Turner close behind, and grasped his arm. “Are you crazy, Curt?” he exclaimed. “This is fool’s play! We don’t want any more of it!” “There’s no danger,” Conrad replied jauntily. “I knew I could jump quicker than he could throw, and I wanted to prove it to him. There’s not a bit of danger; I can do it every time. But if you don’t like it we’ll have something else. Hello, kid!” he said as Homer rushed up and seized his arm; the young man’s face was pale and tears stood in his eyes. “You’ve no reason to be frightened,” Curtis went on easily. “All I had to do was to watch his eyes. If there had been any real danger I wouldn’t have tried it.” [Pg 310] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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