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Updated: May 18, 2025
Pleased with these sentiments, and feeling sufficiently assured that José was now really in the proper frame of mind to suit his purpose, Longorio took the winding trail back toward Sangre de Cristo. A few days after she had written to Judge Ellsworth Alaire followed her letter in person, for, having at last decided to divorce Ed, she acted with characteristic decision.
The Father shrugged. "What am I? An obscure priest. Many of my brothers are buried in Mexico. However, I shall do as you wish." As the day wore on Alaire realized even more clearly the fact that she was Longorio's prisoner. His men, in spite of their recent debauch, kept a very good watch over her, and it was plain that they would obey his orders, no matter how extreme.
Alaire spoke with a conviction she did not entirely feel. "Father O'Malley aroused the finer side of his nature." "Perhaps," agreed the priest. "Somewhere in him there is a fear of God." But Dave was skeptical. "More likely a fear of the gringo Government," said he. "Longorio is a four-flusher. When he realized he was licked he tried to save his face by a grandstand play.
He only said they had brought him bad luck from the start." Dave grinned; then, in treacherous disregard of his promise to Jones, he recounted the tale of that disastrous defeat on the beach at Galveston. When he had finished the story, which he ingeniously elaborated, Alaire was doubled over her saddle.
Turning upon the others, Alaire explained: "I've sent for some of the women, and they'll be here in a minute. Father, this man has come for me. He loves me. Will you marry us, before Longorio arrives?" "Alaire!" Dave exclaimed. She stilled him with a gesture. "Quick! Will you?" Father O'Malley was bewildered. "I don't understand," he expostulated. "Nor I," echoed Dave.
Alaire had some such thought in mind as she rode up to the gate on the afternoon following her departure from the water-hole, and she felt a thrill of pride at the acres of sprouting corn, the dense green fields of alfalfa so nicely fitted between their fences. They were like clean, green squares of matting spread for the feet of summer.
Who could say that Frank Law had passed on his heritage? There was at least a chance that he had not, and it would require more than a remote possibility, more evidence than Ellsworth could summon, to dismay Alaire. Suppose it should transpire that he was somehow defective? What then? The signs of his mental failing would give ample warning. He could watch himself carefully and study his symptoms.
"Why, Judge, people are going and coming all the time! Mexico is perfectly safe, and I know the country as well as I know Las Palmas." "You'd better send some man." "Whom can I send?" asked Alaire. "You know my situation." The Judge considered a moment before replying. "I can't go, for I'm busy in court.
"Juan tells me we'll never reach Romero by morning, at this rate," he said; and Dave was forced to agree. "I think you and he and Alaire had better go on and leave Dolores and me to follow as best we can." Dolores plaintively seconded this suggestion. "I would rather be burned at the stake than suffer these agonies," she confessed. "My bones are broken. The devil is in this horse."
"Dolores and I are greatly in your debt," Alaire told him. "But you stayed so long!" "There was more work than I thought. General, you have ruined me." Longorio was pained; his face became ineffably sad. "Please! I beg of you," he entreated. "I have arranged for reparation of that miserable mistake. You shall see what I have done.
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