The Gringos

  Produced by Suzanne Shell, Leah Moser and the Online DistributedProofreading Team.

  THE GRINGOS

  A STORY OF THE OLD CALIFORNIA DAYS IN 1849

  BY B.M. BOWER

  1913

  WIth Illustrations By Anton Otto Fischer

  "Gringos are savages and worse than savages."]

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  I wish to make public acknowledgment of the assistance I have receivedfrom George W. Lee, a "Forty-niner" who has furnished me with data,material, and color which have been invaluable in the writing of thisstory.

  CONTENTS

  I. THE BEGINNING OF IT

  II. THE VIGILANTES

  III. THE THING THEY CALLED JUSTICE

  IV. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE OAK

  V. HOSPITALITY

  VI. THE VALLEY

  VII. THE LORD OF THE VALLEY

  VIII. DON ANDRES WANTS A MAJORDOMO

  IX. JERRY SIMPSON, SQUATTER

  X. THE FINEST LITTLE WOMAN IN THE WORLD

  XI. AN ILL WIND

  XII. POTENTIAL MOODS

  XIII. BILL WILSON GOES VISITING

  XIV. RODEO TIME

  XV. WHEN CAMP-FIRES BLINK

  XVI. "FOR WEAPONS I CHOOSE RIATAS"

  XVII. A FIESTA WE SHALL HAVE

  XVIII. WHAT IS LOVE WORTH?

  XIX. ANTICIPATION

  XX. LOST! TWO HASTY TEMPERS

  XXI. FIESTA DAY

  XXII. THE BATTLE OF BEASTS

  XXIII. THE DUEL OF RIATAS

  XXIV. FOR LOVE AND A MEDAL

  XXV. ADIOS

  _List of Illustrations_

  "Gringos are savages and worse than savages"

  He twisted in the saddle and sent leaden answer to the spitefulbarking of the guns

  Mrs. Jerry took the senorita's hand and smiled up at her

  "An accident it must appear to those who watch"

  _The Gringos_

  CHAPTER I

  THE BEGINNING OF IT

  If you would glimpse the savage which normally lies asleep, thank God,in most of us, you have only to do this thing of which I shall tellyou, and from some safe sanctuary where leaden couriers may not bearprematurely the tidings of man's debasement, watch the world below.You may see civilization swing back with a snap to savagery andworse--because savagery enlightened by the civilization of centuriesis a deadly thing to let loose among men. Our savage forebears werebut superior animals groping laboriously after economic security anda social condition that would yield most prolifically the fruit of allthe world's desire, happiness; to-day, when we swing back to somethingakin to savagery, we do it for lust of gain, like our forebears, butwe do it wittingly. So, if you would look upon the unlovely spectacleof civilized men turned savage, and see them toil painfully back tolawful living, you have but to do this:

  Seek a spot remote from the great centers of our vaunted civilization,where Nature, in a wanton gold-revel of her own, has sprinkled herriver beds with the shining dust, hidden it away under ledges, buriedit in deep canyons in playful miserliness and salved with its potentglow the time-scars upon the cheeks of her gaunt mountains. You havebut to find a tiny bit of Nature's gold, fling it in the face ofcivilization and raise the hunting cry. Then, from that safe sanctuarywhich you have chosen, you may look your fill upon the awakening ofthe primitive in man; see him throw off civilization as a sleeperflings aside the cloak that has covered him; watch the savages fight,whom your gold has conjured.

  They will come, those savages; straight as the arrow flies they willcome, though mountains and deserts and hurrying rivers bar their way.And the plodding, law-abiding citizens who kiss their wives andhold close their babies and fling hasty, comforting words over theirshoulders to tottering old mothers when they go to answer the huntingcall--they will be your savages when the gold lust grips them. Andthe towns they build of their greed will be but the nucleus of all thecrime let loose upon the land. There will be men among your savages;men in whom the finer stuff outweighs the grossness and the greed. Butto save their lives and that thing they prize more than life or gold,and call by the name of honor or friendship or justice--that thingwhich is the essence of all the fineness in their natures--to savethat and their lives they also must fight, like savages who woulddestroy them.

  * * * * *

  There was a little, straggling hamlet born of the Mission which thepadres founded among the sand hills beside a great, uneasy stretch ofwater which a dreamer might liken to a naughty child that had run awayfrom its mother, the ocean, through a little gateway which the landleft open by chance and was hiding there among the hills, listening tothe calling of the surf voice by night, out there beyond the gate, andlying sullen and still when mother ocean sent the fog and the tidesa-seeking; a truant child that played by itself and danced little wavedances which it had learned of its mother ages agone, and laughed upat the hills that smiled down upon it.

  The padres thought mostly of the savages who lived upon the land, andstrove earnestly to teach them the lessons which, sandal-shod, withcrucifix to point the way, they had marched up from the south to setbefore these children of the wild. Also came ships, searching for thattruant ocean-child, the bay, of which men had heard; and so the hamletwas born of civilization.

  Came afterwards noblemen from Spain, with parchments upon which theking himself had set his seal. Mile upon mile, they chose the landthat pleased them best; and by virtue of the king's word called ittheir own. They drove cattle up from the south to feed upon thehills and in the valleys. They brought beautiful wives and set thema-queening it over spacious homes which they built of clay and nativewood and furnished with the luxuries they brought with them in theships. They reared lovely daughters and strong, hot-blooded sons; andthey grew rich in cattle and in contentment, in this paradise whichNature had set apart for her own playground and which the zeal of thepadres had found and claimed in the name of God and their king.

  The hamlet beside the bay was small, but it received the ships and thegoods they brought and bartered for tallow and hides; and althoughthe place numbered less than a thousand souls, it was large enough toplease the dons who dwelt like the patriarchs of old in the valleys.

  Then Chance, that sardonic jester who loves best to thwart the dearestdesires of men and warp the destiny of nations, became piqued at thepeace and the plenty in the land which lay around the bay. Chance,knowing well how best and quickest to let savagery loose upon theland, plucked a handful of gold from the breast of Nature, held italoft that all the world might be made mad by the gleam of it, andraised the hunting call.

  Chance also it was that took the trails of two adventurous youngfellows whose ears had caught her cry of "Good hunting" and set theirfaces westward from the plains of Texas; but here her jest was kindly.The young fellows took the trail together and were content. Togetherthey heard the hunting call and went seeking the gold that was luringthousands across the deserts; together they dug for it, found it,shared it when all was done. Together they heeded the warningof falling leaf and chilling night winds, and with buckskin bagscomfortably heavy went down the mountain trail to San Francisco, thatugly, moiling center of the savagery, to idle through the winter.

  Here, because of certain traits which led each man to seek the thingthat pleased him best, the trail forked for a time. One was caught inthe turgid whirlpool which was the sporting element of the town, andwould not leave it. Him the games and the women and the fighting drewirresistibly. The other sickened of the place, and one day when allthe grassy hillsides shone with the golden glow of poppies to provethat spring was near, almost emptied a bag of gold because he hadseen and fancied a white horse which a drunken Spaniard from the SanJoaquin was riding up and down the narrow strip of sand which was astreet, showing off alike his ho
rsemanship and his drunkenness. Thehorse he bought, and the outfit, from the silver-trimmed saddle andbridle to the rawhide riata hanging coiled upon one side of thenarrow fork and the ivory-handled Colt's revolver tucked snugly inits holster upon the other side. Pleased as a child over a Christmasstocking, he straightway mounted the beautiful beast and galloped awayto the south, still led by Chance, the jester.

  He returned in a week, enamored alike of his horse and of the ranch hehad discovered. He was going back, he said. There were cattle by thethousands--and he was a cattleman, from the top of his white sombreroto the tips of his calfskin boots, for all he had bent his backlaboriously all summer over a hole in the ground, and had idled intown since Thanksgiving. He was a cowboy (vaquero was the name theyused in those pleasant valleys) and so was his friend. And he hadfound a cowboy's paradise, and a welcome which a king could not cavilat. Would Jack stake himself to a horse and outfit, and come to PaloAlto till the snow was well out of the mountains and they could goback to their mine?

  Jack blew three small smoke-rings with nice precision, watched themfloat and fade while he thought of a certain girl who had latelysmiled upon him--and in return had got smile for smile--and said heguessed he'd stick to town life for a while.

  "Old Don Andres Picardo's a prince," argued Dade, "and he's got arancho that's a paradise on earth. Likes us gringos--which is morethan most of 'em do--and said his house and all he's got is half mine,and nothing but the honor's all his. You know the Spaniards; seemslike Texas, down there. I told him I had a partner, and he said he'dbe doubly honored if it pleased my partner to sleep under his poorroof--red tiles, by the way, and not so poor!--and sit at his table.One of the 'fine old families,' they are, Jack. I came back after youand my traps."

  "That fellow you bought the white caballo from got shot that samenight," Jack observed irrelevantly. "He was weeping all over me partof the evening, because he'd sold the horse and you had pulled out sohe couldn't buy him back. Then he came into Billy Wilson's place andsat into a game at the table next to mine; and some kind of a quarrelstarted. He'd overlooked that gun on the saddle, it seems, and so heonly had a knife. He whipped it out, first pass, but a bullet got himin the heart. The fellow that did it--" Jack blew two more rings andwatched them absently--"the Committee rounded him up and took him outto the oak, next morning. Trial took about fifteen minutes, alltold. They had him hung, in their own minds, before the greaser quitkicking. I _know_ the man shot in self-defense; I saw the Spaniardpull his knife and start for him with blood in his eye. But some ofthe Committee had it in for Sandy, and so--it was adios for him, poordevil. They murdered him in cold blood. I told them so, too. I toldthem--"

  "Yes, I haven't the slightest doubt of that!" Dade flung away ahalf-smoked cigarette and agitatedly began to roll another one."That's one reason why I want you to come down to Palo Alto, Jack. Youknow how things are going here, lately; and Perkins hates you sinceyou took the part of that peon he was beating up,--and, by the way,I saw that same Injun at Don Andres' rancho. Now that Perkins isCaptain, you'll get into trouble if you hang around this burg withoutsome one to hold you down. This ain't any place for a man that's gotyour temper and tongue. Say, I heard of a horse--"

  "No, you don't! You can't lead me out like that, old boy. I'm allright; Bill Wilson and I are pretty good friends; and Bill's almost ashigh a card as the Committee, if it ever came to a show-down. But itwon't. I'm not a fool; I didn't quarrel with them, honest. They hadme up for a witness and I told the truth--which didn't happen to jibewith the verdict they meant to give. The Captain as good as said so,and I just pleasantly and kindly told him that in my opinion Sandywas a better man than any one of 'em. That's all there was to it. TheCaptain excused me from the witness chair, and I walked out of thetent. And we're friendly enough when we meet; so you needn't worryabout me."

  "Better come, anyway," urged Dade, though he was not hopeful ofwinning his way.

  Jack shook his head. "No, I don't want anything of country lifejust yet. I had all the splendid solitude my system needs, this lastsummer. You like it; you're a kind of a lone rider anyway. You neverdid mix well. You go back and honor Don Andres with your presence--andhe is honored. If the old devil only knew it! Maybe, later on--So youlike your new horse, huh? What you going to call him?"

  Dade grinned a little. "Remember that picture in Shakespeare of 'WhiteSurry'? Or it was in Shakespeare till you tore it out to start a fire,that wet night; remember? The arch in his neck, and all? I hadn'tgone a mile on him till I was calling him Surry; and say, Jack, he's awonder! Come out and take a look at him. Can't be more than fouryears old, and gentle as a kitten. That poor devil knew how to traina horse, even if he didn't have any sense about whisky. I'll bet moneycouldn't have touched him if the man had been sober."

  He stopped in the doorway and looked up and down the street with opendisgust. "Come on down to Picardo's, Jack; what the deuce is therehere to hold you? How a man that knows horses and the range, canstand for this--" he waved a gloved hand at the squalid street--"issomething I can't understand. To me, it's like hell with the lid off.What's holding you anyway? Another senorita?"

  "I'm making more money here lately than I did in the mine." Jackevaded smoothly. "I won a lot last night. Whee-ee! Say, you played insome luck yourself, old man, when you bought that outfit. That saddleand bridle's worth all you paid for the whole thing. White Surry, eh?He has got a neck--and, Lord, look at those legs!"

  "Climb on and try him out once!" invited Dade guilefully. If he couldstir the horseman's blood in Jack's veins, he thought he might get himaway from town.

  "Haven't time right now, Dade. I promised to meet a friend--"

  Dade shrugged his shoulders and painstakingly smoothed the hair tasselwhich dangled from the browband. The Spaniard had owned a fine eye foreffect when he chose jet black trappings for Surry, who was white tohis shining hoofs.

  "All right; I'll put him in somewhere till after dinner. Then I'mgoing to pull out again. I can't stand this hell-pot of a town--notafter the Picardo hacienda."

  "I wonder," grinned Jack slyly, "if there isn't a senorita at PaloAlto?"

  He got no answer of any sort. Dade was combing with his fingers thecrinkled mane which fell to the very chest of his new horse, and if heheard he made no betraying sign.