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Updated: June 20, 2025
A warm, soft breeze out of the west beat into his face, and he remembered how warm and soft Alaire's breath had been upon his cheek. The woman of his desires was yonder, where those colors warred, and she was mantled in red and gold and purple for his coming.
Alaire's face was white with anger as she replied: "You cause me to forget that you are my guest. Are you the man I considered you or the man you are reported to be?" "Eh?" "Are you the gentleman, the friend, you pretended to be, or the vandal whom no woman can trust? You treat me as if you were my jailer. What do you mean? What kind of man are you to take advantage of my bereavement?"
A confusion of such thoughts were racing through Alaire's mind as she felt her way out of the boiler-room and into that part of the building where the pumping machinery stood.
Alaire's eyes dilated; she held herself away, saying, breathlessly: "Murder! Is that what it was? He Longorio told me something quite different." "Naturally. It was he who hired José to do the shooting." "Oh-h!" Alaire hid her face in her hands. She looked up again quickly, however, and her cheeks were white. "Then he won't spare you, Dave." She choked for an instant.
La Feria was several miles from the railroad; therefore it could not have been more foreign had it lain in the very heart of Mexico rather than near the northern boundary. In such surroundings, and in spite of faint misgivings, it was not strange that, after a few days, Alaire's unhappiness assumed a vaguely impersonal quality and that her life, for the moment, seemed not to be her own.
There was an interval of silence, then Ed exclaimed, testily, "What are you looking at?" "I wondered what you'd say." "Eh? Can't I fire a man without a long-winded explanation?" Something in Alaire's expression warned him of her suspicion; therefore he took refuge behind an assumption of anger. "My God! Don't I have a word to say about my own ranch?
Dusty, cobwebbed windows let in a faint ghost-glow of moonlight, but prevented clear observation of anything outside; Alaire's fumbling fingers found the latch of the front door and began to lift it, when some one spoke, just outside the building. "What did you discover?" inquired a voice which neither woman recognized.
She flung herself into Alaire's arms, crying: "Señora! Save me! God's curse on the ruffian. Oh " "Dolores!" Alaire exclaimed. "What has happened?" Longorio demanded, irritably: "Yes. Why are you yelling like this:" "A man See I One of those dirty peladors. Look where he tore my dress! I warned him, but he was like a tiger. Benito will kill me when he learns " "Calm yourself. Speak sensibly.
I take liberties with the laws and the customs of your country, dear lady, but you would not care for a man who allowed such considerations to stand in his way, eh?" Alaire answered, sharply: "It was a very reckless thing to do, and you must not remain here." "Yes, yes!" Paloma eagerly agreed. "You must go back at once." But Longorio heard no voice except Alaire's.
Austin was shy and retiring, certainly, at first, but, once the ice was broken, she was delightfully frank, friendly, and spirited. Paloma's curiosity was all-consuming, and she explored every phase of her new friend's life with interest and delight. She even discovered that imaginary world of Alaire's, and learned something about those visionary people who bore her company.
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